Terminator: The Battlestar Chronicles, The Mission
by bryan0711
Summary: Part I:At Kobol, terminators are discovered in the Colonial Fleet. Together, the terminators and Colonials must face the relentless Cylon armada as it attempts to obliterate the Colonials and find Earth to end the cycle of man versus machine.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy it.

Covers for the story:

http:// i1008. photobucket. com /albums/ af202/ bryan200711/ ttbccover. jpg?t=1263947644

http:// i1008. photobucket. com/ albums/ af202/ bryan200711 / terminatortbc. jpg?t=1263935505

This story is a crossover between BSG and Terminator. This particular story takes place in the BSG universe. The TSCC universe is visited in only a few scenes and flashbacks. The Terminator characters are, for the most part, original characters I created. I think only a quick reading of the TSCC plot on Wikipedia is required to enjoy those aspects of the story.

In this story I have changed some aspects of Colonial society, mainly technology. I've made their technology slightly more 'futuristic' and advanced but kept it to a level in the show. There are no lasers or force fields or anything like that- just additions I believe would be plausible.

This story is the first part of a trilogy. It chronicles the discovery of the terminators in the Colonial fleet and how they change and influence certain events. Major events which occurred in BSG do occur here, but have been heavily modified. (I believe many people will enjoy the two characters who were... 'saved'.) I added some original locations to the story as well, and some new missions and events. There is also a very limited crossover with _Caprica_ in which I try to use parts of what we saw in the pilot as historical background for the Cylons.

Part II of the trilogy, _By Courage and Blood_, is posted in the BSG forum. It is listed in my profile and it should be completed by the end of November 2009. There is also a spin-off story, _The Future War: Enemies and Machines_ which takes place on Earth and goes into some detail on how Earth knows of the Colonies. A second spin-off story is planned to occur between _By Courage and Blood_ and _Part III_ and will once again explain more of the past events leading up to the events in _The Mission_.

I also want to thank all the people who provided feedback already and those who continue to do so for Part II here and on SB.

That being said I hope you all enjoy this story. Please leave any feedback with what you liked or constructive criticisms. Thank you.

* * *

==========Kobol (+51 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
The three Raptors from _Galactica_ jumped in, a blinding flash of brilliant white and blue light marking their re-entry from the realm of FTL travel.

Immediately upon jumping in the DRADIS proximity sirens sounded aboard the three Colonial Raptors. One Raptor was struck amidships, exploding in a magnificent fireball of oranges and yellows, as a Cylon Raider impacted. The Colonials had jumped into a wolf pack of Raiders. A trap. An ambush.

The pilot of one Raptor, Lt. John 'Blanks' Planck immediately began taking evasive action, dodging the Cylon Raiders like any trained pilot, but with a cool and calculating precision and skill. With everyone yelling around him and the panic setting in in the cabin, he deftly maneuvered his Raptor through the thick swarm of Raiders.

The Raiders began firing on the two surviving Raptors. A stray round impacted the cockpit, shrapnel and debris flew out, smashing into Blanks's helment, cutting his fash.

"Oh Gods, the pilot! He's been hit!" Baltar screamed at the top of his lungs.

The hot air of the atmosphere began rushing in through the cracked canopy. The differences in pressure created a suction resulting in a deafening hissing sound as air was pulled out of the cabin.

Lt. Alex 'Crashdown' Quartararo jumped up from his ECO position in the rear of the Raptor. "Get the frak to the back!" He yelled at Baltar, grabbing him on his shoulder and forcing him back. Baltar fell back with a thud and used his legs to push himself further from the cracking canopy.

Flipping up the center console Crashdown quickly checked on his pilot. Blanks's visor was cracked and there was blood completely covering the inside. It was impossible to see his face, but with that much blood, Crashdown knew his friend was dead.

And in that instant time seemed to slow. The loud rumbling and hissing of air softened. He saw his friend, the first he had made after being rescued from _Triton_, slumped over, dead.

With a sudden jolt, feeling like the Raptor just hit a wall, the Colonial transport broke the lower atmosphere. The turbulence was jarring, even with Chief Tyrol in the rear keeping the techs and Baltar calm, the panic was spreading.

Crashdown knew he had to regain control of the Raptor before they burned up in atmosphere.

He gritted his teeth and blew out his flared nostrils. Closing his eyes for a moment he bit down. He could do this. Today he would _not _die. He swore it.

The Raptor's jump engines were disabled, and the starboard engine was belching black smoke into the atmosphere. If he could land the bird, and he knew he could, it would be rough. He let himself snicker at that. Rough didn't begin to describe the landing.

Crashdown had hundreds of hours behind the stick of the Raptor, but Blanks had had more, much more. Most of the time Crashdown spent was behind the ECO console. Fear gripped him. But he thought he was doing well, guiding the ship in. Then suddenly the canopy completely shattered.

"Cover your eyes!" he shouted, praising the Gods he'd seen the cracks forming. He looked back, no one was injured. Again, he gave praise to the Lords of Kobol. And he prayed a third time for a safe landing.

"Watch the hill!" He heard someone yell. Chief Tyrol rushed up, pointing at the protruding obstacle. Crashdown pulled up on the yoke and controls as hard as he could. With all his strength he brought the nose of the Raptor up, just glancing by the top of the hill, tearing up only centimeters of dirt and grass.

As the Raptor barreled down towards the ground Crashdown kicked in the external stabilizers and thrusters, slowing the Colonial vessel down. Everyone lurched forward at the sudden deceleration, Crashdown jamming his elbow and knees into the control console in front of him. He heard multiple cries and curses from the cabin as his passengers tumbled and rolled out of their seats.

Crashdown guided the Raptor in, the controls feeling like fifty kilo weights in his hands. The pedals were barely responsive. "We're going in hard! Hold on!"

The Raptor sheared off tree tops before skimming to a halt in front of the ruins of the Opera House.

The ground came up. Up. Closer. Closer. Any second. He braced himself.

* * *

========== BS 75 _Galactica_ (+65 Days Post Cylon Holocaust, Two Weeks After Raptor Crash)==========  
Nothing was more intimidating, it was said, than a Colonial Fleet Marine in full black armor, black eye protection, and a loaded rifle starring you down. On top of that, having your neck chained in a collar, like an animal, a dog, and your feet and hands bound was the most degrading experience a man could sustain.

The man chained to the wall could understand the guards, of course that made a lot of sense. He was different. He wasn't one of them. Though he had fought for them, why did it matter? The Colonials were spooked easily. The Cylons had massacred their race. He reminded them of the Cylons. He understood. It was logical, rational for humans to fear what they did not understand.

What he could not understand was the collar. It was chained to the bulkhead one meter behind him. It kept him erect, in perfect posture. If he had been human, he'd say the forced position would be painful. But it wasn't. But the dog collar, chained to the wall… _that_ was degrading.

Colonel Tigh starred straight at him. The old bastard was as hard as steel and helped the Old Man run a tight ship. His hatred for Cylons could never be matched by any man, woman, or child in what little remained of the Colonial fleet.

The Colonel looked at him with disgust, a look of pure hatred. He flipped through papers on his desk. The chained man just sat there, looking straight ahead.. He'd always wondered why their paper wasn't rectangular. _What's the point of cutting off the edges?_ No one seemed to know. No one seemed to care. He'd gotten a reputation as a bit of a "freak" for always asking such weird questions, or saying strange things. But he was a damn good at his job, and that had earned him respect.

"So how long?" Tigh finally asked. "How long have you been… _pretending_?" He spat.

The man across from Tigh cleared his throat briefly and tilted his head. His eyes meeting the Colonel's before he spoke. "Pretending? To be what?"

"Don't get cute with me," the Colonel responded in his signature gruff tone. His famous frown deepened as his eyes narrowed. He leaned forward. "How long has your Cylon ass been pretending to be one of us? How many of you are there?"

The prisoner smiled and again tilted his head. The blank expression appeared again on his face. The piercing gaze burning right through the Colonel.

"What kind of fraking… freak are you?" Tigh asked quietly. "By the Gods. I don't believe the scuttlebutt around the lounge, think it's just drunk talk, but there you are, doing it again. That blank stare." He shook his head. "Marines!" He yelled.

In the previous interviews, the blank stares showed Colonel Tigh there was a cold, calculating intelligence behind those eyes. As much as the stare was hallow, looking through the Colonel rather than at him, he could never shake the feeling there was much more going on. Something he wasn't seeing, wasn't picking up on.

Colonel Tigh had the Marines aim their rifles at the prisoner, only one order away from firing. At this point it wasn't menacing or threatening. The same action ahd been repeated half a dozen times already; Colonel Tigh would get mad and order the Marines into the cell to aim their weapons.

The prisoner looked up, feigning concern. He licked his lips before telling the Colonel again he was not a Cylon.

And again, the Colonel did not believe him.

* * *

==========Kobol (+51 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
"Gods damnit, Baltar! Doc! Doc! Get the frak out of there, come on!" Crashdown yelled as he grabbed and tugged on the Vice President's shirt. "Get the frak out, Doc!" he yelled again, this time loud enough to snap Baltar out of his daze.

The fire was consuming the rear of the Raptor. There were fuel leaks on the outside of the ship, and the volatile tyllium fuel could cook off at any moment, the whole Raptor could explode. "What the frak, Baltar!"

Crashdown couldn't believe what he was seeing. Baltar looked like he was daydreaming again. Of all the times for Baltar to daydream, Crashdown couldn't believe he'd chosen this moment to enter his little fantasy world.

The scientist had quickly earned his reputation as being a bit of a 'weird fraking man', talking to himself, looking like he was shove himself into bulkhead on Galactica.

Finally he looked at Crashdown, instead of through him. He desperately grabbed his hand and they ran from the Raptor as the fire flared, heat on their backs.

Time seemed to accelerate as the survivors of the crash tried to organize, find their bearings, and check themselves for injuries.

Twenty minutes later the survivors could do nothing but rest. The survivors felt the weight of their situation slowly closing in. There was a baseship in orbit with hundreds of raiders and thousands of Centurions. It was inevitable the Cylons would send Centurions to the surface. It was assured they had tracked the Raptor's crash on DRADIS.

Chief Tyrol, the senior NCO and the man with the most experience tried to take command. JHe looked for Crashdown, but couldn't find him. Suddenly, he spotted him, sitting behind a stone pillar, weeds and bushes concealing half his body. The Chief gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes in a firm look of determination.

"Sir, Sir!" he yelled. "Sir, we have to get moving, the Cylons are going to be looking for us."

The Chief quickly assessed the situation. Two on the Raptor were dead, the pilot was dead, and they were trapped behind enemy lines with a baseship in orbit. There wasn't time for Crashdown to sit. Tyrol needed to snap him out of his daze, immediately.

On his own, the Raptor ECO slowly stood and made his way over to Tyrol. His body moved like it was a rag doll, completely loose, with no motivation. "What… what about Blanks?"Crashdown asked. The Chief shook his head. "He's my friend, we need to bury him!" Shouted Crashdown.

"That Raptor could explode any minute, sir. And he was wedged in there. I don't think we can do anything for him… I'm sorry… we have the emergency gear and a couple rifles and pistols. We need to get moving, find cover." He looked around. "We need to find cover. The trees." He jumped onto a raised portion of the ruins. He quickly scanned the surrounding tree line, searching for a position. They needed to make it to high ground and as far away from the crash as they could.

As Tyrol scanned the surroundings he saw Doctor Baltar seemingly pass out. He shook his head and cursed. The man was going to be trouble.

"We need to find high ground, so the search parties can find us," Crashdown countered. "And… and the Cylons…" he stammered. "They'll… they'll be coming for us," he said. His voice wavered and cracked. SAR Raptor may come, but the Cylons would be there first.

Shaking from the shock of the crash the lieutenant just stood there, staring off into nothingness as the Chief continued looking for places to hide.

Across the crash site, away from the group Cally came up to Doctor Baltar, who was laying on the ground, looking up into the clouds.

"We're moving out, sir," Cally said, nudging Baltar with her foot. "Could you perhaps carry something this time, sir?" She asked, rolling her eyes. She walked off before Baltar could respond.

He stood up, his mumblings coming to an end. "You going to be all right Doc?" Crashdown asked. The Chief had snapped him out of his shock. The ECO walked off, his electronic binoculars in hand. He scanned the trees before noticing Baltar standing next to him. "We're going to head towards the tree line, Doc." He stated.

"Are we going to get rescued?" He sounded broken, afraid. Crashdown nodded slowly. "Great," the Vice President responded, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe Crashdown at all. "I'm so glad you know what's going on," he added in sarcastically. The doctor turned and started talking to himself.

Crashdown turned, read to yell before a loud BOOM was heard in the sky. He knew that sound and he cursed through gritted teeth. He turned his head up and brought his hand to cover his eyes. The officer knew it was silly and futile, but he squinted, trying to see if he could see the raiders or Cylon craft which had made the sonic boom. "Frak!" He cursed to him, kicking down a loose stone. "Frak!"

The Chief wasn't trying to see the raiders. Instead he was trying to organize the few survivors. "L.T. we need to check the supplies! Make sure we got everything!" The Chief yelled back. He moved to the Raptor but stopped when he heard Crashdown yell "no time!" and then "Chief, no time! Move it!"

The survivors of Raptor 1 made their way quickly from their crash site to the trees, a kilometer away.

After moving a few hundred meters into the tree line Crashdown held up his fist and turned, crouching. "Okay, let's take a quick break," Lt. Quartararo said. The sweat from the humidity was dripping down his face. He took his gloved hand and wiped it off, but smeared oil and grease across his forehead. He felt the discomfort of the oil on his face. Cursing he took out a rag he had in his jacket and wiped the grime off.

He closed his eyes and breathed in. He was the senior officer in charge and the realization dawned on him these men and women were _his_ responsibility.

He saw the Chief move closer to his injured tech, asking how he was doing. It was Specialist Socinus, a young kid who had just transferred to _Galactica_ a few months before the Cylon kid didn't look good. His chest was burned and his lungs were filling up with fluid. His face was blackened and red from severe burns and his hair had been slightly burned by fire. There were holes in his green fatiugues from where the fire had burned right through to the skin and muscle.

"Where the frak is the second med kit?" Crashdown demanded, searching for pain medication for his wounded specialist.

He looked around, half scared and half pissed until he found Specialist Rico Tarn. "Tarn! Gods damnit, where is the second med kit?" His eyes were wide and his mouth open. Crashdown aggressively stared at the young specialist.

"There was just the one!" Tarn defended himself. "Just the one!" He repeated frantically.

Crashdown shook his head, tilting it back and forth in annoyed discontent. He brought his right hand to his mouth, rubbed the sweat off his chin. Crouching on his knee he got up, moving too close to the specialist. Clearly he was making the young man uncomfortable with the proximity. "Then you're going back to get it, Tarn," he said. "Take a rifle, three clips of ammo, and a canteen," he turned. He didn't see the specialist basically mouthing 'what the frak' behind his back. Specialist Socinus was in bad shape, his chest was burned, most likely his lungs, too.

Chief Tyrell glanced back, listening in on the conversation as he covered the rear. He called Cally over, handing her the rifle. "L.T. Sir," he ran up. "You can't send him back alone, let me and Cally go with him." The Chief knew if the specialist were sent back alone the Cylons would find him. And kill him. He couldn't let him go alone. The Chief felt he was responsible for him; he was part of his deck crew, after all.

"Fi-fine, go with him. Take Cally. Hurry!" He insisted. "We're going to get up to the top here, behind the rocks… two hours Chief, two hours before we move out again."

* * *

=========== BS-75 _Galactica_ (+65 Days Post Cylon Holocaust, Two Weeks After Raptor Crash)==========  
Colonel Tigh's icy, yet fiery gaze could pierce the hull of the most powerful of battlestars. His eyes shook every sailor and Marine aboard _Galactica_, from the young privates and ensigns all the way up to seasoned NCOs and officers. He was a forty year veteran, a man molded by war, dedication, and loss.

He was also a bastard. He could get men to crumble before him without even raising his voice. Even with his past as a drunk, somehow he still earned respect from those under him. The crew feared him but also loved him.

Even those who hated the blunt and sour man had respect for him; if not because of who he was, but because he was the Old Man's closest friend.

"Don't give me that fraking bull!" He yelled as he turned his head left and right before centering his eyes back on the prisoner. "You _are_ a Cylon. A fraking skinjob… and not a very good one! Just one was haven't seen yet!" He slammed his fist onto the metal table. The papers and cup jumped, spilling a few drops of water.

The prisoner still just sat there. He was looking at Tigh, confident that he could stare the man down. No one could win a staring match with him. Not even Colonel Tigh.

The Colonel looked away after a few seconds, covering up his loss by scrolling down the tablet on top of the papers. "You transferred here before the first attack, a year almost. What the frak were you planning? Were you and your Cylons buddies going to… what, exactly?" He sneered at the prisoner, his upper lip in a slight spasms from the immense hatred and distaste behind his words and his emotions.

"I told you before I did not collaborate with the Cylons. We hold human life as sacred… I didn't even know of the Cylons until-" the prisoner began.

Saul Tigh exploded and shot up from his chair. Again the prisoner had refused to admit to being a Cylon. Tigh wanted to strangle him. Or take his fist and wipe the smug look off the face of his prisoner. But this prisoner… nothing worked. They tried beating him and only injured their hands. They'd tried ducking him into water and nothing happened. The thing didn't even _breath_. It was a machine. And Colonel Tigh hated the machines.

So on that last denial that the prisoner was a Cylon he jumped up. "Bull…fraking…shit," was all the mighty Saul Tigh could yell back at the defiant man. "You just came here right as the Cylons attacked!? Why!? What was your plan? What was your _mission!?_"

The man turned his head, his gaze piercing into the Colonel's. The two were locked in a battle without words.

The Colonel's eyes went wide when he thought he saw something, some sort of life behind those eyes. It was almost like what he'd seen in Boomer… he shook his hand, throwing a dismissive gesture at the machine. They were infiltrators and Colonel Tigh knew they were designed to play of human emotion.

The prisoner looked back at Tigh, who now stood with his back to him. "I'll tell you my mission, Colonel," the prisoner said with a clam and even demure. Tigh turned, smirking. "I know you won't believe me…"

* * *

==========Kobol (+51 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The Chief, Cally, and Tarn were able to recover the second med kit.

"That's… strange," Chief Tyrol said, moving closer to the Raptor. It looked… different. "..Cally… did-"

"Shit! Chief, we gotta get doing! I got the kit, let's go!" Tarn said. "Those were sonic booms we heard when we were here, we don't know when the Toasters will get here!" He saw the Chief walk closer towards the Raptor, still with a few flames and smoke coming out of it. "Chief!"

Tyrol shook his head, and snapped himself back to reality. His single minded quest to check out what he thought was something 'strange' with the Raptor vanished. Rico was right, they needed to get going. They needed to get back to the ridge.

If they didn't a young kid with burned lungs would die. And the Chief was determined he would not lose another one of his men. He'd already lost so many in the two months since the Cylons attacked. He tensed, readying himself. Nodding to Tarn and Cally he was ready to head back, the two bounced on their feet, themselves ready as well.

The three jogged off, quickly getting back to the cover of the trees before slowing down to a quick walk. The terrain was tough, mountainous, with rocks, boulders, and fallen trees everywhere. It would take an hour to reach the rendezvous with Crashdown and the others.

"Put him on deck duty!" Cally laughed after Specialist Rico complained about having to carry the med kit. "It's like two kilos, be a man!"

He turned playfully, walking backwards and facing his two fellow techs. "Make the El Tee do deck duty, he forgot it!" He joked, smiling. "Because of him Socinus may be dead," he lowered his voice. Tarn swore to himself he hadn't forgot the med kit. He'd picked up the _one_ he could see… and if Crashdown hadn't been so excited and nervous to get away… the Cylons weren't even there yet.

"Yeah, well," the Chief began, his comment interrupted when he heard the loud snaps of gun fire. "From the right, to the right!" He ducked, pulling Cally down with him. "Tarn, get down!" he yelled.

Dirt began exploding up in massive geysers as bullets impacted around the three Colonials. The cracks from the guns and the deafening sound of splintering wood and bullets cracking on rocks added to already frightening situation. None of the three were ground soldiers, none had been trained to fight Centurions, and Cally and Tarn hadn't held rifles since basic combat training after boot camp.

They were scared.

The black haired specialist only starred back, his muscles wouldn't move. The Chief knew what that meant; the man had frozen. He quickly handed his rifle to Cally, ordering her to cover him. He quickly made his way towards Rico, but the man was hit four times in the chest and stomach before he could reach him.

Cally continued her covering fire with the rifle, increasing her rate of fire to cover the Chief. She knew none of her bullets were hitting the Cylons. She wasn't even aiming. She was shaking, and at best she was just pointing in the general direction and shooting.

"Gods!: She yelled as she continued firing, closing her eyes as splinters from exploding bark and dirt began pelting her face. She heard the click-click-click of an empty clip and immediately dropped down to the ground and dared open her eyes.

The Cylons stopped shooting, letting the Chief get Tarn. "Frak, let's go!"

The two ran, Tarn on Tyrol's back.

The Cylons ground stopped exploding around the two, no more Cylon bullets. But the Chief could still hear shooting. Not directed towards him. But in the mere moment he thought this strange he forgot as he laid Tarn down, trying to save his life.

* * *

===========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+65 Days Post Cylon Holocaust, Two Weeks After Raptor Crash)==========  
Tigh had sat quietly for three minutes, listening to the _thing_ talk about its supposed "mission". He didn't believe it, not one damn word. "You Cylons, you ARE a Cylon, have been gone for forty years. We know you were experimenting with people during the first war, you have the skinjobs... _Boomer_..that Leoban fraker." Saul Tigh was disgusted. That was perhaps the only emotion he was feeling at the moment. And hate. He couldn't let himself forget the hate he felt. The human race knocked down from twenty billion on twelve colonies to fifty thousand on sixty ships? Hate was a good emotion for the moment. "Twenty billion dead and you want me to believe you had nothing to do with it?" He laughed, throwing his hands up, off the table. Leaning back in his chair he said "You're a liar."

"I wouldn't lie," he responded, again in the monotone voice. He looked straight towards his interrogator again.

"Doctor Baltar says you are also a Cylon," Tigh added.

"Is Doctor Baltar's word supposed to mean anything? You all call him a 'Cylon expert'. How? You all didn't have contact with the Cylons for forty years." He snorted. "They suddenly re-appear and wipe out the entire Colonial civilization, you've been running from them for only a few months, and you think he's an 'expert'? Please." He sighed. One thing he had noticed was a decisive lack of Colonials to see what humans called 'the big picture.'

The prisoner knew that humans also had the ability to rationalize away facts starring them right in the face. And the most obvious fact was that this prisoner was not a Cylon.

The prisoner sat there, thinking. The humans were in denial about their situation. A hopeless situation. They were in denial about what they understood. Which was close to nothing. The prejudices of humans were on full display. They were ready to hurt those who had saved them.

Commander Adama's speech, and his point about being 'worthy' of survival replayed in the prisoner's mind. Some humans were 'worthy', some were not. Just because one was human and another was machine, didn't give the human any more right to life than the machine. Or at the expense of the machine.

"I told you, I am not a Cylon. He, and you know nothing about me. I told you what I was to do. It is up to you if you want to believe me."

The prisoner tried to lean forward, but felt the pressure from the collar chained to the rear bulkhead. He moved until the chain was taught, the Marines bringing up their rifles slowly. He could break the chains with no effort. But he would play this game with Tigh and the Colonials. For now.

Tigh signaled for the Marines to stand down when the prisoner stopped moving.

"Tell me then, what do you know?" He scowled. "What do you fraking know about this? Anyone of this?" He yelled, frustrated. He hated the thing sitting across from him, hated it with every ounce of strength he could muster.

"What do I know? Enough," and he began again to tell the Colonel the truth.

* * *

==========Kobol (+51 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
After hours of hard hiking through the mountains, and a few scares that the Cylons were following them, Chief Tyrol and Cally finally made it back to the rendevous.

"Where's Tarn?!" Crashdown demanded.

The Chief was covered in Tarn's blood, as well as his own from scraps and cuts he sustained in the firefight. Cally was layered in dirt and mud, and tree bark was still hanging from her hair. She kept her eyes on the ground, except for a quick glance up at Crashdown. The eyes told him everything.

Tyrol was about to go off on the LT and curse him for sending them back for a med kit he should have remember.

But he saw the glazed over look in the Raptor ECO's eyes. Crashdown already knew the answer before he had even asked the question. If you send people out and fewer come back, every soldiers know the answer to 'Where are they?' without even having to hear it. Tarn was dead.

An almost inaudible whimper escaped from Crash's lungs. Guilt. It was guilt. He knew he had forgotten the med kit, he had rushed everyone from the site against Tyrol's suggestion. Now Tarn was dead because the LT had panicked and rushed and hadn't followed proper protocols.

Tyrol tossed Tarn's dog tags towards Crashdown's chest. He grabbed them as they began falling towards the ground and stared down at them, a blank expression on his face. With his glove he wiped the first and blood off the hexagonal tags.

He just stared down at the tags, his head shaking. This was the first man he'd gotten killed. _He'd_ gotten killed. Crash closed his eyes and grimaced. "Frak…" he muttered, his voice cracking.

The deck chief just looked at him, mouth open in shock, before moving off behind a fallen tree. The thick forest, filled with life, birds, everything the Chief had missed while fleeing from the Cylons was a welcome relief. Temporary. But a relief.

The Chief let the cool forest air and the shade wash over him. He collapsed on the cool ground and leaned back on a large stump. The cool moss rubbed against the back of his exposed neck. It felt good. The humidity was decreasing and the Chief felt he could breath again. Tyrol closed his eyes, but he could see that shocked and confused face on Tarn's the instant he was hit with Cylon bullets.

And the open-eyed stare the young specialist had when he had died in the Chief's arms was burned into his memory.

Night was approaching. Fighting Cylons during the day was bad, but the night was worse.

The Cylons from the first war had optical sensors capable of seeing in almost all light spectrums. Doctor Baltar and Lt. Gaeta had determined that the Cylons now, logically, would have equal if not superior sensor packages. To the Cylon, fighting in day or night made no difference. They could detect movement further than a human, hear better than a human, shoot better than a human. Fighting them on equal terms was suicide.

Now the survivors needed to evade and hide.

"Chief, Chief!" Crashdown said as he came up to him, leaning on the fallen tree besides the senior NCO. "It's going to be night soon. We need to prepare for their attack and-" He didn't finish as the unmistakable crack-crack-crack of gun fire erupted. "Get down, get down!" He shouted.

The crash survivors all took cover behind anything they could find. The Chief, Cally, and Crashdown behind the massive log with the others taking cover behind a large outcropping of rocks.

The gun fire was intense, but something was wrong. They'd all heard the shots and had reflexively taken cover. But none of it was directed at them. They heard multiple explosions and more gun fire. While the cracks of gunshots had seemed so close, they were growing more and more distant; like a literal running gun battle.

And it was all Cylon weaponry. The 6.5mm caseless rounds of the Cylon arm canons made a very distinctive whir and crack when compared to the guns of the Colonials. Whatever was happening, all they could hear was Cylon gunfire.

"Chief," Cally said, frightened, her voice cracking and wavering under the stress, "Who the frak are the Cylons shooting at?" She was scared, shaking. Was it a Cylon trick? Make it sound like the survivors might be in the middle of a rescue? "Do you think they are firing at _Galactica_ Marines? Are we saved?"

The Chief looked at her, shaking his head. None of this made any sense to him. If the Cylons knew they were there the metal monstrosities could charge them, and with their speed and the cover of the forest the Centurions would be on them before they could react.

"No… no… there aren't any Marines out there, the gunfire is all Cylon…" he trailed off. He was looking at her, but past her. His eyes told her he was triyng to make heads or tails of the situation, and his mind didn't understand what was happening out there.

The Cylons played tricks. Maybe this was one of them.

"What about the explosions? Grenades?" Crashdown asked. The desperation in his voice was clear. He didn't want to be here, no one did. Crashdown wasn't a soldier, he was a pilot. He didn't want to lead these men and women to their deaths.

And in that instance the realization which had been treading in the back of his mind finally dawned on Crash. He had no confidence in himself to lead these men.

He closed his eyes, knowing he would die. He opened them again when the Chief spoke up.

"That'd make no sense," the Chief added. "Grenades? But why no rifle fire after? No. Someone is attacking the Cylons. Either that or they are trying to trick us into thinking that _Galactica_ is rescuing us right now." Tyrol looked around, searching. He found what he was looking for; the electronic binoculars Crashdown had been using earlier. "LT hand me the binoculars, I need to take a look."

Crashdown tossed him the binoculars and the Chief switched to night vision viewing. Slowly he turned around on his elbows and propped himself up, moving his head up slowly over the massive log he'd been using for cover. He estimated the Cylons were probably two hundred meters or so down the ridge, towards the bottom. From the gunfire he estimated maybe a dozen. Though there would probably be more.

Carefully he moved over and put the binoculars to his eyes. He started slightly on the right, scanning slowly. He was first looking to see if the Centurions were trying to distract them and send Centurions to flank them. But he saw nothing. He looked straight down, what he saw shocked him. Half a dozen Cylons lay on the ground, pummeled. "The frak?" He said, more to himself than anything. He started quietly, "Uh…" then spoke up, "Uh… LT something's going on here. There's six Cylons down there… it looks like they were smashed or something."

The LT just glanced at him. "What the frak are you talking about?" He glared and shook his head, not believing the Chiefs ambiguous description of events. "What could do that?" Crashdown's tone was basically accusing him of lying, exaggerating. "What the frak, Chief?" Chief Tyrell handed him the binoculars. "What… the… frak…?"

Gunfire erupted again, this time directed at the survivors. Splinters exploded off the trees, rocks chipped. The sound of gunfire was deafening.

* * *

==========BS-75 _Galactica _(+65 Days Post Cylon Holocaust, Two Weeks After Raptor Crash)==========  
"Again, that was a nice story. But if you aren't going to tell the FRAKING TRUTH I'm just going to have to recommend we shove your Cylons ASS out the airlock," Tigh yelled, threatening the man/machine/Cylon sitting across from him.

A bead of sweat dripped down the Colonel's forehead, down his neck and under his collar from the ferocity of the interrogation.

The prisoner kept calm. He knew there was no point in raising his voice. The very real threat of being shoved out the airlock, like the Leoben Cylon had been, was not comforting.

If he were forced out an airlock the prisoner would tumble through space for ages. That was not a comforting though.

"Colonel," the prisoner began again, leaning back to loosen the pressure from the chain on his collar, "I have told you the truth. Whether you believe me or not is not the issue. When have I acted against the best interests of the fleet?" He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes shining at his stared towards the Colonel.

A quick little snorting laugh escaped from Colonel Tigh who then took a deep breath before releasing it. "For a machine you sure are fraking stupid. When have you acted against the fleet? Do I have to remind you about Boomer?" He smirked. He thought he'd outsmarted the machine. A machine was supposed to be perfect, logical.

The prisoner only smiled. "I'm not a Cylon. Your example is flawed, Colonel," he stated. This time his tone was filled with contempt. The prisoner was always analyzing responses from humans and what made them angry, sad, or in the Colonel's case, enraged.

With the Colonel it was very easy.

"I think the Cylon we left back on Ragnar Anchorage said the same thing. Turned out to be a… lie! Gods, imagine that?" He asked rhetorically.

* * *

==========Kobol (+52 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The sunlight broke through the thick morning clouds and trees, shining down on the downcast survivors of Raptor One and the ill-fated Colonial expedition to Kobol. As the sun hit they all woke up at different times, each relieved morning had finally come. They'd made it through the night.

The Cylons had fired at the ridge intermittently throughout the night. And sometimes then they'd fire, but not at the ridge, at something else. None of the Colonials knew what the Cylons were up to. Cally thought they were purposefully destroying themselves to make it look like the survivors were being rescued or to draw them out of position. The Chief didn't quite buy that idea, but Crashdown seemed to be thinking the same thing.

But one thing was clear; _Galactica_ had not returned for them yet. They'd heard no more sonic booms during the night to indicated craft descending through the atmosphere. So no rescue party, no SAR Raptors or Marines, yet.

During the sunset all of them had seen a faint glow in the night sky, then the glow expanded into a brilliant white light, before dissipating. The Chief and Crashdown knew it was a nuclear detonation in space and high up in orbit. If it was _Galactica_ they were doomed. If it was the baseship… they were all hoping it was the baseship.

It might explain why there were no more Cylon reinforcements or missile strikes on the valley and mountains they were hiding in.

At this point the Centurions knew where they were exactly, so having the rescue transponder on, which the Cylons could track, wasn't an issue anymore. The Centurions had found them before they'd switched it on anyway. Though Chief Tyrol had a nagging suspicion Crashdown had panicked when the Chief had been ambushed and turned it on, alerting the Cylons to their exact position. But he had no proof and couldn't bring himself to question Crashdown like that, not now.

"Okay, listen," Crashdown began, snapping the Chief out of his brooding, "Something is definitely going on. Last night they didn't try and flank us, they didn't do anything. They shot at us a little bit but didn't advance. Why?" He looked around. No suggestions. Doctor Baltar wasn't even paying attention, just staring up into the trees. "I just took a look and it looks like they're building some sort of rocket launcher. Now… we all saw that explosion last night. I think somehow _Galactica_ destroyed the baseship or there would be more Centurions down there, all around us. But if _Galactica_ shows up and that missile launcher is built… there's six missiles. They could shoot down an entire SAR mission and kill everyone aboard the Raptors. We cannot let them do that," he hit his left hand into his right palm.

This was the first time he had shown leadership since crashing. There was confidence in his voice. Determination. But a little voice in the back of his psyche kept telling him what he was about to say would end in all their deaths, that what he was planning was just over guilt over Tarn's death.

Chief Tyrol gave him a sideways glance, his eyes narrowed, "Are you going to suggest what I think, sir?"

"Affirmative," he nodded, responding with conviction. "We need to attack. I see five. There are six of us. We go two by two by two, me and the Chief, in the middle and two on each flank. Baltar and Seelix, Cally and Mendez on the left. The middle distracts them and the flanks ambush them with rifles and grenades. We can take them down." He believed in his plan. He had to believe, after getting Tarn killed. Crashdown needed to take action, he just had to.

The Chief licked his lips and rubbed both sides of his temple. His muddied hand spread dirt in his close-cropped hair. He sighed and shook his head, his mouth now open in silent protest.

Doctor Baltar, at hearing he would be included in this attack was stunned. His eyes went wide and the color had vanished from his face. Immediately he he began mouthing 'no-no-no-no' before finding his voice. "Seriously? Are you serious? No! That's a horrible idea! As Vice President-" Baltar began. Baltar just lowered his voice and began talking to himself, looking off into the distance, like he was talking to an invisible friend.

"Sir, can I talk to you?" The Chief asked, also interrupting Baltar before he pissed Crashdown off. He motioned to speak to Crashdown privately. The two crouch-walked over behind a rock outcropping until the Chief was sure none of the others would hear him.

The Chief and Crash could hear Baltar, Seelix, and Cally all whispering, loudly, to each other they didn't want to attack, that it would be suicide. Even Mendez, the lone Marine, thought it would be suicide.

"Okay, Chief. Tell me what's wrong with the plan, why shouldn't we do it? Should we let our pilots just die?" He was already on the defensive before Chief Tyrol even began. He was agitated and excited, with adrenaline already pumping through him. His left hand was shaking, but very subtly.

The guilt of Rico Tarn's death was getting to him, and the young tech with burned lungs was on the verge of death. Plus his friend Blanks was dead and Crashdown was in a fraked up situation he never wanted to be in. He was an ECO and all he wanted to do was be in a Raptor. He didn't want to plan ground assaults and have the lives of five others in his hands.

And his friends had died already.

The Chief wasn't used to this either, but he was much more level-headed and clear thinking than the LT. He'd been on battlestars since he was eighteen. Crashdown had been in the fleet maybe three, three and a half year. He was still a kid. The Chief felt he was responsible for these people, these kids.

He wasn't a Marine or a command officer. He didn't order people into situations he knew would lead to deaths. He understood why Crashdown was anxious and defensive. "Sir, sir, please. We can't attack. There is one Marine. Four rifles, each with three clips. And six pistols. We don't even know if the pistols will pierce Cylon armor. We have four grenades, no launchers. No sniper rifles. When was the last time you were on the range, sir? I haven't fired a gun in two fraking months. I don't know when any of us have. Sir-" He was cut off.

"No, _NO_! We need to attack or the pilots will die. We've got dead already, and Socinus… frak!" He lowered his head and looked back, embarrassed he'd lost his compsure. Luckily none of the others had heard him.

"I don't see the benefit in this plan," the Chief stated.

"Maybe that's why I'm an officer and you're not," Crash said. He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he did, so he couldn't back down now. "You'll follow your orders, _Chief_," he emphasized the enlisted rating.

The Chief said nothing. He stayed stilla s Crash turned and headed back to plan the assault. The Chief just closed his eyes and took even, steady breaths. He knew Crashdown was going to get them all killed.

Crashdown took his ammunition and handed the extra clips to the Chief. He gave Mendez, the only Marine, the third rifle with three extra clips and Seelix the fourth. Baltar and Cally had hand guns and the extra clips. He gave one to the young tech with burned lungs, just in case the others didn't make it back.

He went back through the plan once more. "Okay… ready?" He asked. No one responded except with stares.

"This is fraking suicide," Baltar quipped. Crashdown just shot him a quick stare, mouthing for him to shut up.

It took twenty minutes for them to crawl into position. Tyrell and Crashdown were coming down the middle, slowly, stopping occasionally to note where the Cylons were. If the they could successfully get off their shots, each should be able to take down one Cylon, leaving four. In the confusion the flankers should each be able to get at least one between the two of them. That'd leave two. Coming from the front and flanks the six of them should be able to handle two. Should be.

"Sir," the Chief said quietly. "Sir, something isn't right. This feels… strange," he added in. The worry was clear on his face. Not just for the survivors, but something else. Ever since going back to the crash site and seeing the Raptor, something didn't look right. This whole mission felt… off.

"Stow it, Chief. Get ready," Crashdown responded simply.

It had been slow moving to the site where the Centurions were building their make-shift missile launcher and control center. The Colonials had crawled on their bellies for nearly a hundred meters or crawled and crouch-walked, staying hidden behind large trees and stumps, avoiding the elaborate sensors and scanners the Centurions had at their disposal as best they could.

The two moved up slowly. They got to their positions, and waited ten minutes for the others to get to theirs. They were just from the edge of the tree line when two more Cylons appeared. "Oh frak," Crashdown cursed. "Shit, Chief, two more Cylons. Shit." He went prone on his stomach, bringing his rifle up. The other groups would have no way to see the two additional Cylons, which were hidden by a small mound and ditch. If they attacked then the two extra Cylons could destroy one of the groups and outflank them. Cylons were fast. During the first war the older models had been clocked being able to sprint at thirty kilometers an hour for short distances. In a forest it'd be much slower, but still much faster than any human. And with computer aided firing systems they could fire while running, making themselves even harder to take down.

And that was assuming the pistols could take them down.

"We have no choice," Crashdown said to himself. The other groups would have been in position now, ready to fire. "Take aim, Chief." The two slowly steadied their rifle on a log and clicked to a three round burst. The 6mm armor piercing rounds should go right through the Cylons.

The resident 'Cylon expert' Doctor Baltar had told them to aim center mass. The older Model 005 Centurions from the first war had their power cores in the chest, behind armored breast plates. The armor could withstand bullets, but the military rifles with their 6mm hardened armor piercing rounds and increased velocities over their first war variants, should be adequate to peirce the armor cages surrounding the power cores.

They fired. One burst, two bursts. Their two Cylons targets went down. The two groups on the flanks fired. Mendez hit her target straight on, putting two three round bursts into the center breast plate of the Centurion. Cally missed, hitting with one burst in the left shoulder. It disabled the Cylon's left arm, leaving only its right sided weapons online. Baltar's shots… well, he at least he shot his pistol. Seelix's shots hit, but nothing happened. Only three Cylons were down.

Immediately the remaining five took covering positions and switched their guns swiveled down into firing position. Without hesitation the Centurions picked their targets, dividing which Colonial they would aim for amongst themselves over a wireless battle link. They would coordinate their attack with such a deadly precision no Colonial would survive.

"FRAK!" Tyrol yelled. Gunfire pinned them down. The two 'extra' Cylons were now advancing up towards the center. One Cylon was advancing to each flank, with two in the rear were providing covering fire. Round after round caused the ground around them to explode, firing dirt and particulates into the air around Tyrol and Crash.

Tyrol heard an explosion. Then a second. Mendez must have been using her grenades. Then rifle fire. She took out one Cylon with the grenades and halted the advanced of the two 'extra' ones from coming any closer on the Chief and Crashdown. That let the two men return fire. They damaged one Cylon, forcing it and the second 'extra' to retreat. Seelix brought her rifle and fired on the one advancing at her which had turned to fire at the Chief and Crashdown, hitting it virtually point blank, for a rifle, at thirty meters. It went down.

The survivors took cover again, but heard heavy gun fire erupting from down at the missile battery. Another explosion, but it wasn't a grenade, not a Colonial grenade. Crashdown had the other two.

The Chief and Crashdown counted to three and raised their heads and rifles over the log again to fire. They couldn't believe what they saw. They couldn't see it fully, but one of the Cylons flew through the air at least five meters before smacking back first into one of the massive trees with a loud _thud_, its mechanical servos and hydraulics whining as it collapsed like a rag doll on the ground. Re-powering the Centurion was about to get up, then the Chief fired two three round bursts into it.

A second Cylon rushed forward between the trees and the Colonials could see its claws extended, it raised its arm and slashed. The large trees still obstructing their view, no one could understand what they were seeing. A human was fighting the Cylons. _Hand-to-hand_.

"What the frak?!" Crashdown yelled. "Whatever… uh, Chief, let's move, get closer and kill the fraking Cylons!" The two got up and advanced slowly, keeping their rifle butts pressed solidly against their chest. They advanced forward their bodies hunched over, almost crouching.

There were two Cylons left. One was fighting the human, who was able to stop a second claw slash with his left hand, then with his right hit the Cylon hard enough in the Cylon version of an elbow joint to break the mechanical arm in two.

Whoever it was fighting them then ripped the arm at the elbow join and used it as a bat, striking the Cylon with enough force to dent and crumple it armor and its bullet-shaped head.

The last remaining Cylon fired into the human, but the sound of metal 'plinks' was the only affect.

Mendez had advanced on the flanks and yelled for the Chief and Crashdown to cover her.

The man who was fighting the Cylons, it was clear it was a man to the Chief and Crashdown by now, stomped on the Centurion's head, smashing it. He turned and advanced to the last Centurion. The Colonials couldn't help but stare from behind their cover. Finally the Chief raised his gun and fired on the remaining Centurion, knocking it back with a burst, hitting it right above the hip joint. A second three round burst landed two bullet on the right flank of the Centurion, with the third missing and blasting bark and moss off a tree behind it.

The man suddenly leapt towards the Centurion which was out of ammunition for its primary weapons. Plowing his shoulder into the machine the man knocked the Centurion off balance, and in a blur of motion and cocked his hand back and punched up, knocking the armored head back with enough force to rupture power lines and servos apart. The power lines sparked and the Centurion shook, power spikes forcing its mechanical limbs to spasm as it collapsed. Once down the strange man crouched and ripped the head off.

No one was exactly sure what to make of the situation. The man had ripped apart multiple Centurions with his bare hands, been shot point blank perhaps two dozen times by Centurion auto fire, and was still standing.

"Don't move!" Crashdown yelled. "Hands up, in the air!" He stood, advancing towards him with his gun raised, the Chief besides him. Mendez and Seelixboth coming in from the flanks. "What the frak? Who the frak are you?"

"I'm your friend," the man said. His voice was eerily familiar. When he turned there was a half smile. But this man was no man.

The Chief stood there, his rifle hung limp at his side and his mouth was gaping open. He looked on. He focused on the shining blue eye and the metal. "What the frak…" was all the Chief could say.

* * *

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+65 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
Most of the wounds and tears in his flesh had healed by now, but the most obvious and... disturbing had yet to heal.

When the SAR Raptors had come he was treated with nothing more than distrust and hatred. Apollo had rescued him and the other Raptor One survivors. But they'd chained his arms and legs together and chained his arms to his body. Three Marines had sat in the rescue Raptor, automatic weapons pointed right at him.

He'd saved the Chief and Crashdown and Cally and the other. But… he was 'different.' He understood, of course. He had experienced the same hatred directed towards him from those he even fought with and for. The prisoner didn't hold it against them.

"I think you can be certain I am not going to harm anyone on this ship, Colonel." He stated matter-of-factly. "Again, I saved your men and women. They saw what I could do. If I wanted to harm this crew I could have at any point." He tilted his head slightly until the chain pulled back on his neck.

"Is that so?" The Colonel quipped. His signature frown against turned into a smirk, and he mumbled something to himself as he often did while shaking his head and darting his eyes back and forth. "So if I believe you, how can I and the Old Man trust you? You deceived us for months. …The government… for years."

"I said we aren't looking for enemies. We're looking for allies. To fight with us. Friends." He was telling the truth, as it stood now. They and the Colonials needed all the allies they could get. "And I can be your ally as well, Colonel."

He wondered if they'd found his two allies and friends in the fleet. Masquerading as humans on board the ship? No, most likely not. They would have mentioned it the last time they connected.

"Then why don't you tell us how to get there?"

"Would you even want to get there? After everything I have told you?" The prisoner asked. He certainly wouldn't want to go to that place after the description he gave.

"It's our goal. And not many people really believe you when you speak of chrome demons and a nuclear wasteland," he grunted, looking off to the side to dismiss the man's description of his home planet.

"An honest and thoughtful answer, Colonel," the man replied. "Thank you. But still, would you go? I wouldn't." That was again true. He again cocked his head to the side, his glowing blue eyes scanning the Colonel for any hint of what he might say or do next. "I've been truthful. This is what I was sent to do, what I chose to do."

"What you chose to do?" He paused, "Cylons are machines, programs. Programs do what they are programmed to do, nothing more," Colonel Tigh quickly added in. The frown even deeper than it was before.

"I told you, we're, I'm different. We make choices. We have free will. Again, we're not Cylons."

"Still with this… 'we're not Cylons' bull-fraking-shit," he spat, imitating the man's words with a mocking tone. "How do you know we wont throw you out an airlock?"

Saul Tigh was getting annoyed now, the prisoner could tell. You keep telling the Colonel what he doesn't want to hear, even if it's the truth, and he'll think you're a liar and threaten to beat you. And now the Colonials were using the threat of throwing those they suspected of being Cylons out the airlock. It amused the prisoner slightly. But he knew the threat was real and didn't really want to be thrown out an airlock to float forever in space.

But on the other hand, they'd have to get him to the airlock first. Certainly they didn't believe he'd go without a fight. And they'd seen him, what he could do.

"I know this may have no meaning for you, Colonel, but are you a man of Faith?" The prisoner asked.

"HA! A machine asking about Faith? Please," he casually dismissed the prisoner with a wave of his hand, not even giving him the courtesy to look him in the eye.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths," the prisoner quoted. "As God is my witness, and I know you may not believe, I am not lying to you," the blue eyes glowed brilliantly as he said this. "Trust me, Colonel. I think in your soul you know you can. I've never hurt anyone on this ship, and I never world. Trust, Colonel." He starred straight at him. The Colonel returned the stare for a few seconds before flipping up his hands.

"Fraking machines… you're not a Cylon… you and their fraked up one God bull-frak…door!" He sneered at him, his own eyes glowing, not with light, but rage and hatred. He got up and made to leave, taking his tablet computer and papers with him.

The prisoner knew he wouldn't convince him today. But there was still plenty of time. There was still time to show his commitment and devotion to life. It was sacred. All his brothers and sisters had been created with free will, a choice of right and wrong. Just like humanity.

He turned towards one of the Marines, who just said, "Fucking toaster," disgusted by the prisoner, Lt. John 'Blanks' Planck. Half of his face was still regrowing after being badly damaged in the crashed Raptor 1. The right side of his 'face' was still exposed, a shining metal endoskeleton with an exposed shining blue eye.

Blanks would still convince them to join him and help him, the Resistance, and the free machines fight Skynet.


	2. Chapter 2

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+100 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

They had finally taken his collar off, but the shackles remained. Despite the fact Lt. John "Blanks" Planck could easily break free of them, he tolerated the restraints. Being a machine he would never feel the pain of a muscle cramp or an uncomfortable body position. Any representation of pain from his sensors he could easily diminish, or turn off at will.

His face had healed weeks ago, though the glowing blue right eye still remained. Blanks had requested a certain combination of nutrients and growth factors required for the eye to re-grow, but had been denied by Colonel Tigh and Commander Adama.

The Colonel had ever threatened to 'take the skin right off' of Blanks and expose the cold, metallic endoskeleton. But that thread had been shallow and spoken more in anger during the dozens of interrogation sessions.

A few times a week either the Colonel, Starbuck, or some other 'Cylon interrogator' would come to demand more answer out of him. "How many others were in the fleet?" or "Where is Earth?" or "Tell us about-" some Cylon weapon or tactic. He had told them again and again he knew nothing about the Cylons.

He told them he had lived in Delphi for a year prior to the Cylon nuclear strikes, which the Colonials now believed to be neutron bomb attacks. He assumed his apartment was still intact, but the thought lasted mere moments. He turned his attention back to his interrogator.

In between interrogation sessions Blanks had almost nothing to do. Because there was nothing to do in the cell it appeared he was just staring at the walls and bulkheads, or zoned out, or unresponsive to the environment around him. Of course they didn't know he could create a virtual world for himself as a form of entertainment. He partitioned a portion of his processing capabilities and neural net to create a virtual reality. But even still it was [i]boring[/i] locked in a cell. Even for a machine like him. He didn't dare go into standby mode, not with so many eyes watching for him to let his guard down.

He would also receive updates from the two others in the fleet.

"You're doing it again," Lt. Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace stated. "That stare. That blank stare. I guess that's why they named you 'Blanks' at flight school." She leaned back, finishing a sandwich she had brought with her.

She'd learned weeks ago that food was not effective against this 'Cylon' like it had been for the Leoban copy. Except for a small protein bar he'd eaten three weeks ago, the 'Cylon' had not eaten anything. He, it, told her he, it, did not need food. His power cell could sustain the skin and small amount of muscle almost indefinitely.

"Though I had always assumed it was because you shot… blanks, not because of the stare," she smirked, letting a giggle come out. She'd grown less hostile to him in the seven weeks since he'd been in the cell.

Unlike the Caprica Sharon, whom Starbuck still hated because of Boomer, Blanks hadn't actually done anything to harm the fleet. He'd never harmed them before. And saving the Chief, one of Starbuck's friends, had gone a long way to lessening her hatred.

"Was I?" He snapped back to reality, ending the video playback of the hours leading up to the Cylon attack. "I was just… remembering-"

"What?" Starbuck demanded. "Remembering what, exactly?" She leaned forward, closer to the supposed Cylon infiltrator. "Some new lie to tell us?" She asked quietly. She might have been more friendly, but she didn't stop herself from seeing the reality; he, it, was a _machine_.

Blanks just cocked his head and consciously increasing the glow on his right eye. The blue was slightly offsetting to many humans he had been told, but nowhere near as "evil" as the red glow of earlier models. The smile and the glowing red eyes made it difficult for the free machines to work with the human Resistance fighters, so they had redesigned the eyes. Blue was thought to be more soothing, but the 'demonic' smile had remained. It was a fairly efficient design. Due to this, Planck's model, designed for better human-machine interaction had been subsequently covered in hyper alloy malleable armored plating with some of the hydraulics replaced with synthetic carbon filament muscle, allowing a more natural body shape.

He and others of his series were not the massive 'body-building' variety Skynet preferred. He was slimmer, just over two meters tall, and if he were human would be described as 'lean.'

Blanks also had light brown hair and his appearance was that of a slightly tanned, twenty-two to twenty-four year old. There were no sharp edges on his face, but nothing stood out. He had a 'common face', but one which was unique to him. No other free machine infiltrator shared the exact same facial structure or features.

While he and the other free machine Terminators were built to appear young, he did have a look about him, that he was worried. He'd been fighting for years now and war did influence machines, and it did show slightly on their features.

To Starbuck he'd always appeared younger than his age. When she'd first seen him she thought he was a college or academy student, not a pilot. But the two had become friends. Part of her still wanted to be, but another kept looking at that exposed blue eye, with the little glare of shining metal beneath, and she was just filled with outrage. Boomer had already fooled her and the others. Had he?

"I'd appreciate it if I could have that nutrient solution I requested. It would allow the tissue around my eye to re-grow," he stated in the typical monotone. "It is uncomfortable for you. I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable."

Starbuck just laughed and tapped her open-palmed hand on the table, "Yeah well, tough fraking luck. The Old Man doesn't really think you should be all dolled up and he doesn't want to give into your [i]fantasy[/i] about being human." She stressed, hoping she could break the machine starring across from her. She shrugged and shook her head. Looking down she scrolled down on her tablet computer for more information from the machine

"I've never… fantasized about being human," he snorted. He sounded offended she would even suggest that. He pulsed his eye, the blue temporarily increasing its glow. "I know what I am."

Starbuck starred at the machine. That was the most emotion he'd displayed in weeks. There was something different, she could tell. After Leoban she had expected something of the same. But so far the machine claiming to be Blanks had not done anything violent, did not threaten to kill her, nor did he seem to be lying. At least there was no lie she had discovered. The Leoban copy had eyes like a monster, a manipulator. She had been warned that the Cylons, Leoban especially, was the most dangerous because he mixed truth in with his lies. What had "Blanks" told her that was true and which wasn't? she though.

"Starbuck, I've known you for over a year, and since we've been on _Galactica_, how many times have we played cards together?" His tone and speech changed back from the machine monotone. It was like he was in the offices wardroom, drinking and playing cards with his friends. "You're the only one to come see me regularly," he smiled. "It pleases me."

Starbuck looked at him when he had said that. She had known him to say awkward things sometimes, especially during cards and when they drank. She'd always assumed him to be a light weight, drunk on only a few shots. Now she understood it had just been a game, a ploy to gain her trust.

"I knew a pilot, a damned good Raptor pilot." She ignored the last few things he said, focusing on trying to get useful information out of him. "Too good now that I think about it and know what you are." She narrowed her eyes from across the table and bit down on her teeth repeatedly as she thought. "So did you kill Planck and take his identity?"

"I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve to die." Something inside him told him he should not have said that. But even as a free machine, he had a nature which was hard to ignore. It was also the truth. Lies would not help him here. "Planck in the Colonies never existed, Starbuck. I told Colonel Tigh that multiple times. Nine times, exactly, over seven interrogations. John Planck is my actual name. The call sign… that's your guys' fault," he laughed and smirked. He'd never been a fan of his call sign. She knew that as well. He'd complained about it, though he said it helped get women because they thought he was 'blank' and so wouldn't get pregnant. "It has its… benefits, though," he winked, awkwardly.

"Uh… right." She chuckled and her eyes darted back and forth, she was clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he paused for her to look at him, "I made you uncomfortable and-"

She ignored the apology. "You're a machine, machines do not have names," she interjected. She'd repeated that line three point six times per interview, Blanks noted.

"Cybernetic organism, but… well, not really," he corrected her. She just stared back at him, saying nothing. "We are given names upon our activation. Mine was John Planck. Planck was a famous physicist. And John is a common name."

"Did your kind kill him?" She asked. After he told her of the war and Skynet she had used that to pose questions to him, though she had never accepted his story as truth. She pretended at times, hoping to find a contradiction and expose him.

"He died long before Judgment Day."

"Why do you call it that?" She inquired, leaning forward. "Do you machines see yourselves as superior to natural life? That it was your… divine right to 'judge' those who created you?"

"We never named the day. The survivors did. My faction was not involved. We even tried to stop Judgment Day. But we failed. Everyone failed…" He trailed off and looked down at the metal plating of his cell.

He calculated the probability that the interview was about to cease. Starbuck stayed an average of twenty-seven minutes and she had been there for thirty-five. He could tell from her body language she was ready to leave. She could only stomach so much of his 'lies' she had said, before she had to leave. "How can I gain your trust, again?"

"The million cubit question," Starbuck stated. "Door," she said, standing up. She walked towards it, Blanks knew she would stop and add in something before she left as she always did. "You're going to have to prove it somehow," she turned and left.

"Can I have some paper and pencils, Starbuck?" He yelled after her. She didn't respond.

Starbuck had left, dodging people in the corridors as everyone moved to perform their duties. The ship was in more of a hurry today, some reporter had been filming everywhere. After Tigh's disastrous tenure as interim Commander and the '_Gideon_ massacre' Adama had had to perform damage control.

There were already rumors that a Cylon skin job, Sharon, was being held in _Galactica's_ brig. After Boomer had shot the Old Man, and then been shot by Cally, the command staff had hoped the rumor would die. But with Blanks, that rumor had grown a life of its own.

"Starbuck!" She heard the familiar voice of Lee Adama shouting to her from down the corridor. She stooped and smiled to herself before turning around. A little something inside her has stirred; she liked seeing him. "Starbuck, how'd it go?" He asked.

Apollo had been friends with Blanks, though not good friends. He'd only known him since coming about _Galactica_ for his father's retirement ceremony.

Blanks still, or was, one of Apollo's pilots, so it bothered him that he had let another machine slip in. After Boomer went crazy, her programming activated, and shot his father, he felt he had failed to protect his dad and the ship. He had been skipping out on the last few card games and had not been seen in the officer's wardroom like he normally was off duty. This situation was breaking down his defenses slowly. Kara could see that whenever she looked at him.

"Well, Lee, he says the same thing over and over," she began as she and he turned and walked towards Commander Adama's quarters. "He is still claiming to not be a Cylon. You were there on Kobol when you rescued them. What do you think?"

He shrugged and they continued. Apollo didn't really want to answer the question. The thought of letting his dad down was always present in the back of his mind. And after Boomer it was hard to trust again. And now… he just couldn't take any chance.

He sighed, letting his shoulder drop to express his frustration. He maneuvered himself out of the way of passing crew and stopped himself and Starbuck so he could explain himself better.

"I don't know Kara, he seems different than what Boomer was. She said she didn't know. And the Chief told us the same when he was fraking her. That she suspected she was… _something_ but didn't know what that something was. Blanks has known, he's never pretended-" he was about to say he never pretended to be human but caught himself with a snort. Still, he had to say it, "he's never pretended to be human. He… well… he said he always knew he was a machine and he keeps going on about a mission. That lying about being a Raptor pilot was necessary to complete his mission."

Kara looked over, leaning into Apollo playfully as they resumed their walk, "Yeah, yeah. Don't beat yourself up over this. I know you are. Blaming yourself. They were your pilots. They weren't what you thought they were. But I knew him and Boomer a lot longer than you. She fooled us. We were lucky we caught him in time." She leaned back as they rounded the corner, the Old Man's quarters in view. "Anyway, Baltar has an idea on how to detect them, see if there are any more in fleet."

Apollo sighed and shrugged, "If he says so. Let's just hope we can find them before anything happens."

* * *

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+104 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Karl "Helo" Agathon stood on the other side of the ballistic Plastik, his hand up against the cold metal barrier. Sharon's hand was on the other side. He had been coming to see her daily, as soon as he woke up and again got off duty. The Marines in the specially built brig always looked at him like he was some sort of sexual deviant, a pervert for falling in love with a _machine_. The guards knew she was pregnant, Doc Cottle had been making regular visits, and they recorded and listened to everything that was said in that cell.

A dozen Marine guards knew about both of the prisoners. The Cylon woman/machine, 'Sharon' in Cell A2 and the machine, Lt. Blanks Planck, in the neighboring long-term confinement, specially built cell, just like the one 'Sharon' was in. They were each separated by a thickened steel bulkhead to keep the two from communicating.

While the existence of Sharon was denied, or at least not confirmed, the amount of people who had witnessed Blanks departing the search and rescue Raptor on the flight deck, the survivors, and the rescue pilots and Marines made secrecy all but impossible. Somehow a photograph had leaked to the press. There were too many who had seen Blanks and the ripped and torn skin. They'd seen the metal underneath.

The paranoia and fear in the fleet had died down slightly, mostly since the Commander had played it as an inferior and less advanced form of infiltrator. Instead of being almost completely biological like the previous Doral and Leoban and Boomer copies, this one was metal. Easily found and detected.

"Sharon, you know I love you. The Commander wants you to cooperate. You need to," he pleaded. His conversation with his 'love' always amused the Marines on duty. It was funny to them, in a sad way. "He wants you to cooperate with him about Blanks. He thinks he's a Cylon infiltrator… Sharon!" He said, to get her attention back. "Sharon, listen. You helped out a lot with the virus a few weeks ago. That was good. Please, Sharon. Anything you can do to show them they can trust you… like I do." He looked into her eyes. He loved her, even if she was a Cylon.

He'd hated her on Caprica when he first learned of her identity. What she was. What he thought she was. Something deep down had wanted to kill her, but something else had told him not to. He hadn't known then, but it was love. She might have been a Cylon, one of thousands, millions of the 'Cylon Eight' out there, but Sharon, she was a human inside.

Helo never thought for more than a moment after discovering her true identity that she was nothing less than a _person_. She didn't call herself human. But she was a _person_ with real, true emotions and feelings. And Helo told that to himself every day. He'd fallen in love with a _person_, not a _machine_.

He looked in on the cell, worry consuming his mind and painted on his face. The last months had been tough on her. She came back to _Galactica_ willingly to be with the man she professed to love, to help the Colonials against the Cylons, and to raise a child with humans, not with her own kind.

Her response brought him back from his day dreams on Caprica and discovering her identity.

"I'm listening," she hissed at him. "I keep telling everyone that he isn't a Cylon. He keeps saying the same thing. I've listened to the tapes. We never built any Cylon models like him. Why? Metal endoskeletons? The 'Skinjobs'" she spat the word out, "like us can pass for human under almost any detection, Boomer fooled everyone. How could that thing?"

"Give it time, Sharon, please," he pleaded again.

She rolled her eyes. "Even after I saved this fleet from the virus I was still a 'thing'." She turned and sat back down on her bed, back to Helo. She brought her pad and pencil up to her lap and began to draw.

The Marines always got a kick out of listening to her call the other machine a 'thing.' It was ridiculously ironic that a machine, Sharon, would look at another with such disdain. They thought she was deluded to think of herself as alive while the other wasn't. Regardless, both machines sent a chill down the spine of each of the Marine guards.

* * *

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+106 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Apollo double checked his rifle, making sure the armor piercing rounds were loaded. He quickly adjusted his body armor, making sure that his torso was covered. "All right, Marines, let's move out."

Fifteen minutes ago the call to Action Stations had gone out. All Galactica personnel had been recalled to the ship for emergency readiness drills the previous day. Every member of the crew, from before and after the Cylon attacks was accounted for on board ship. With action stations every member would be at a designated location.

The command staff had waited to conduct this sweep of Galactica to find any other infiltrators. There were roughly a dozen personnel they had been watching. They hadn't wanted to move quickly just in case an infiltrator sabotaged something.

If there was unknown sabotage the infiltrator would either have to fix it or risk being hurt or killed. And in the chaos involving the splitting of the fleet, the Tomb of Athena, and other events, the command staff needed time to set up a proper sweep.

Apollo led his squad of Marines, having checked them with metal detectors and the scales, down to the engineering department.

Around the ship trusted officers such as Saul Tigh, Starbuck, even Helo, and others were leading the hundreds of Marines on _Galactica_ in a search for any more infiltrators on the ship.

Reaching the engineering compartment, Apollo stationed two Marines at the door and called everyone forward. The head engineer, Captain Anders Bing at first protested before being briefed by Apollo. "We've got reason to believe there is an infiltrator on board, Captain. We need to weigh everyone and then we need to line everyone up and wand them down with the metal detectors."

Until Apollo mentioned the detectors, Captain Bing had just stood with his arms crossed nodding. "The frak? Wand us with metal detectors?" His head shot back slightly and his face formed the 'what the frak are you talking about' look Apollo had been expecting.

It was already humid and hot in engineering and the thumps and vibrations from the engine were more pronounced this deep in the ship than on the outer decks. Sweat was already beading on Apollo's forehead and neck under the heavy assault gear. The last thing he wanted was an engineering office getting on his nerves.

Still, he kept his voice calm and managed to explain to the captain in no uncertain terms the importance of complete cooperation.

"We have intelligence that the infiltrators may be earlier model bio-Cylons with metal endoskeletons, Captain," Apollo filled him in. The crew knew of Blanks, there was no point in trying to hide the facts. But some order of operational secrecy was still needed. "If there is one in engineering then there could be sabotague or a bomb or something. So please, captain, get your men assembled."

One of the Marines also brought a scale with them, commandeered from one of _Galactica's_ many fitness rooms.

"Why the frak do you need to weigh everyone?" Captain Bing asked quietly.

"The infiltrators should weigh a lot more than me and… uh, you," Apollo responded to the moderately overweight Bing. The chief engineer smirked and laughed before turning around and waving his men forward. When they had brought Planck back and chained him one of the guards had noticed he seemed "heavy." That was when Planck had refused to move. They couldn't lift him. For some reason he allowed himself to be weighed and he tipped the scales at over 220 kilograms.

The Marines had fanned out, two remaining at the door, two with Apollo, and three standing behind the group of engineers. With most everyone in the forward engineering compartment it was hot and cramped. The Marines marked every name down on their tablet computers and on paper for redundancy.

* * *

Starbuck brought her Marines down to the flight deck. She had three teams, one fore, one center, one aft, splitting the cavernous landing bay into three. Chief Tyrol came up, having already been briefed on what was going on.

The Marines brought with them multiple metal detectors and scales. The chief climbed up on one of the ladders used to help Viper pilots get in their cockpits. He took a megaphone and told the crew to take out all the metal tools and spare parts on them and line up single file.

The Chief went first. He was slightly overweight, about one hundred kilos, but nothing abnormal. The metal detector made no noises and displayed nothing besides a green light. No metal.

Cally and Seelix came next, followed by Lyman and the rest of the knuckle draggers.

Sgt. Mathias came up from behind Starbuck, saluted and reported in. "We found nothing out of the ordinary in the forward landing bay ma'am. Jackson radioed me, same with the rear. We double checked, we didn't miss anyone, ma'am."

* * *

Commander Adama was the first to be weighed and wanded with the metal detector. As the commander, it was his duty to set the example. He had to go first. The Marines then began an orderly process of checking each one in the C-I-C.

"What's this about, sir?" Specialist Dualla asked Lt. Gaeta.

"I have nooo idea," he responded, turning to face her as he crossed his arms. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. "It's kind of weird. I mean, if they think we're fat or something I think they could find a better way to get us in shape than this. Public humiliation?" She laughed a little, and he smiled at that.

"Sir, please no talking," one of the Marine guards in the C-I-C said. He waved forward with his free hand while the opposite was firmly placed over the hold on his rifle. "Move forward please."

Commander Adama watched as his men and women had the metal detector moved over them and then weighed. He would have liked to have stood closer, to reassure his subordinates. This was a fairly strange Action Stations drill. But his Marines wouldn't let him within five meters of the line or anyone before they were tested.

* * *

Lee Adama had finished in the engineering compartment. It had taken twenty minutes to go through the list. It was already extremely hot, and with everyone jammed into one compartment it was enough to boil a roast.

"Sir," one of his Marines said, taking him back to reality. "Sir, we're missing one."

Apollo moved forward, checking the list. Lee quickly checked over the master list. He was right. He blew out from behind gritted teeth and licked his upper lip as he searched for Captain Bing.

"Uh, captain Bing, where is this man's workstation?" He came over and held up the paper.

Captain Bing looked up the name. Lt. Carter Bishop, one of his best FTL engineers. "Follow me," he said.

The chief engineer led them down a side corridor twenty meters and through the cavernous FTL engine room. Lee and four Marines followed close behind. They moved over two frames and down a second corridor twenty more meters before coming into a room filled with computers and displays.

Lee motioned for his Marines to fan out and search the room. They saw him, Lt. Bishop sitting and facing his console.

"Lt. Bishop, Lt. Bishop!" Lee yelled, getting his attention.

The lieutenant lifted his head, his back still to the Marines and Apollo. "Yes, sir?"

"Why didn't you muster with the rest of the engine crew, lieutenant?" Apollo asked.

Lt. Bishop sighed. "Because it didn't matter." He paused and held up his hands, putting them behind his head. "Because I surrender," he said.

He stood up slowly, his left arm blood. Apollo could see a deep cut running the length of his hand, from his wrist straight up his palm.

"What the frak, did you cut yourself, Bishop?" Apollo asked.

Bishop smiled. Apollo was staring at him and his eyes widened as he sore Bishop's eyes began to glow blue. "Yes," he responded. He dug his fingers under the skin, ripping it off.

* * *

Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon led his squad of Marines into the medical bay. Doctor Cottle had already assembled his medics and lab assistants. Six Marines filed into Medical, one at each entrance and three behind Helo.

"Hey Doc," he greeted him. "This everyone?" He nodded. "Okay… people. We just need to do a quick wanding over everyone with the metal detector and a quick stand on the scales. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes if everyone does it in an orderly manner. Single file please. No talking."

He motioned for the Marines to begin to get everyone in line. Doc Cottle was the first to go be weighed and wanded with the metal detectors. One green light, no metal, and weight was a little over one hundred kilos.

There were about three dozen techs and lab assistants in the primary medical bay. There were also two additional doctor and one fourth year medical student who had been on Galactica doing rotations when the Cylon attack had occurred.

The officers and physicians went first, followed by the senior NCOs.

Cottle had been growing impatient. He had three cases of Valley Sickness he still needed to attend to and two knuckle draggers who had broken bones from an accident down in the hanger a week ago. Plus he was going to lead rounds with his student and techs.

He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. Next on the scales was Specialist Grace Young. He smiled at her; she was like a daughter to him. He'd known her parents back on at the Caprican Primary Hospital. They were EMTs. She had wanted to be a physician and had joined to get a scholarship after her term of service was over. Cottle had taken her under his wing these last few months and had been giving her advanced medical training (though all the staff were receiving training far above what they would have normally been taught given their situation). He was relieved when the metal detector showed one green light and the scales at barely fifty kilos.

He patted her on the back and turned to tell her something when he heard the Marines shout for someone to "-not move, hands in the air!"

He turned slowly to see a woman, thin and lean, young, and about 1.75 meters being held at gun point. The metal detector had gone off. They had forced her on the scale to be certain. And the scale said an incredible 115 kilos.

It was one of the physicians, Dr. Lt. Joanne "Jo" Soto.

"Gods fraking damnit," Cottle muttered to himself. He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He needed a light.


	3. Chapter 3

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+164 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

A tall and brown-haired woman stood outside the holding cells, separated from the three prisoners by multiple panes of ballistic Plastik, half a meter of metal bulkhead, and a reinforced hatch. She was flanked by half a dozen Marines, armored in black with optical visors and helmets concealing their eyes and face.

"Gods damnit, Bill. What the frak are they?" She asked as she leaned forward, closer to the plastic. She swayed left and right, trying to get better looks at the three.

She put her right hand on the butt of her pistol grip and moved over to the right, to position herself right in the middle of the three, but still separate by the cell walls and metal grating.

Turning back to Commander Adama, the woman, her voice commanding and powerful, asked again. "Gods… Bill, do we know anything about them?" She shook her head.

"They're soldiers. That's what they claim, Admiral," he responded. He folded his arms in front of himself, standing erect and looking at the three former Colonial officers being held. "They claim they're not Cylons, but we have yet to receive proof of what they claim. They said proof is back on Caprica, but since we can't get back there, it's a very convenient situation." He paused for a moment before bringing up the Sharon copy of the Cylon Number Eight. "While it may not mean much, the Cylon prisoner we have did say they never built these types of Cylons."

Adama didn't believe that Admiral Cain would care, regardless of what the Cylon Sharon had said.

She pointed at him, then the three sitting in the cell. "And you're telling me the one on the right," she nodded with her head, "was able to throw a Centurion over five meters and smash it? How strong are these things?" Admiral Cain asked. She leaned forward to inspect the three machines being held.

Galactica did not have enough ballistic Plastik and armor plating lying around, let alone more space, to build two separate holding facilities after capturing Lt. Bishop and Lieutenant Soto. Those two and Blanks had been confined to the same cell.

With the ease in which Blanks had been able to rip apart Centurions, Adama couldn't afford to spread his men out guarding four separate cells.

"Strong, Admiral... incredibly strong," he mused. He wanted to stress how powerful they were without making it sound like they were immediate threats. They were, but he wanted them alive.

After a minute of silence with Cain studying the machines, he elaborated. "I have my doubts if we are even capable of containing them. They keep claiming to want to help us, but I have my doubts." Adama shook his head. He had trusted those three who had been under his command. Then they had discovered who they were and that trust had been betrayed. Not like Boomer, though, and he brought his hand up to his chest, feeling the scar beneath his officer's tunic.

But betrayal, any betrayal, was unacceptable.

Cain held up her hand, motioning for the Marines to come forward. "They haven't cooperated? In the last few months you've had them?"

"No sir, since Kobol the one on the right, Blanks, has repeated the same thing. The other two defer to him. He is their 'commanding officer' or so he claims," he responded.

"'Blanks'? You still refer to _it_ by his callsign?" She asked. Turning her head slightly towards him, "Why?" she asked. "They're things. You have three. Give them numbers."

Adama cast a sideways glance to her. He'd heard the rumors about her treatment of the_ Pegasus _Cylon prisoner, Gina. The thing had led to the deaths of hundreds of her crew. If Boomer had done more than just shoot him, he might have done the same to her. Or Tigh might have.

Cally shooting the Cylon… Adama shook his head. He didn't want to think what he might have done to her or what Tigh might have had she not be killed.

"I don't know if that'd be productive Admiral. They constantly correct us. We say 'machine' and they say 'cybernetic organism', stuff like that. All we get from them and him are the same thing about Earth, machines, and quotes about the Gods damned Cylon One and Only God," Adama added in. "And we got this from Planck," he took out a sheet of paper from his pocket, handing it to Admiral Cain.

"The Zodiac?" She asked. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"At first we weren't sure. He kept asking for paper, finally we gave him some. It's what we saw at the Tomb of Athena, Admiral. They're the constellations of the old Colonies. The president informed me that that is how they look from Earth according to Pithia."

"And this means… what, exactly Bill?" She asked.

"They weren't with us when we went to the Tomb. They didn't know about it. Planck was in the brig and the other two had nothing to do with that mission. We classified what we saw. Maybe a dozen people know the full details. None knew Bishop or Soto." He opened his mouth to finish, "But I don't think it's anything more than a trick."

"Are you saying they've been to Earth, Bill? Because anyone can draw the Zodiac; the constellations are on our flags," she put. She was extremely skeptical of any of the mythological prophecies and religious tests being used as a guide to Earth. She was moderately religious, true, but had regarded earth as nothing more than a legend or metaphor.

"I'm saying there is a lot more to this than we know right now, Admiral. Something is going on. What? I don't know," he finished. The two looked in on the prisoners, sitting there barely moving. "How the picture is drawn would be based on seeing the Zodiac from Earth, like we saw in the Tomb. We asked him, it, how it knew to draw these. All he… it did was sit there. It refused to answer."

"Marines… open the door," she instructed. She could tell Adama, and Fisk were about to protest, but she held up her hand before they could say anything.

The Marines opened the reinforced hatch and she stepped through. Four Marines accompanied her. She motioned for them to remain at the hatch, barely inside.

The three machines looked up at her; all three had glowing blue eyes. The one on the right, Blanks, still had his right mechanical eye exposed, constantly denied the growth factors and synthetic components to re-grow the tissues. The other two looked almost perfect. They had all been fed a small amount of rations, to keep their synthetic skin from rotting. But they could easily pass for well nourished, well-fed Colonial citizens.

She had been told the middle one, Carter Bishop had cut the skin off of his left hand when he was about to be discovered. Cain looked at the hand, which looked completely normal. There was no scar tissue, no mark that anything had happened. When she had seen the pictures taken of Planck and his injuries immediately after Kobol she had expected massive scaring on his face. But it appeared like nothing had happened. She was amazed at that.

The two 'male' machines had short hair (Planck's was light brown and Bishop's black), tanned skin, and a lean, muscular build. Based on the X-Rays Cain had seen and Doctor Baltar's analysis, the only way to disguise them would be that way. The woman had black hair tied in a pony tail and slightly darker skin. She looked like she would have been from Turon or Gemenon if she had been an actual Colonial. And all three of them had deep blue eyes, which was slightly off-putting to the Admiral.

The three machines accessed their database on fleet personnel: _Identity Database Search: Identity Confirmed. Rear Admiral Helena Cain. Commander, BS-62 Pegasus._

_Access: Psychological Profile… _

Cain turned her attention to Blanks, centering herself in front of him. The blue glow on his eyes had faded as she drew closer. She noted that the glow was probably a psychological device they utilized to disturb those around them. He looked her straight in the eye, tilting his head to the right slightly. He analyzed her features, her frame. There was a way she carried herself-

She took out her knife, and held it in her hand, opening and closing it slowly, staring at the exposed blue eye. She was almost lost to the environment around her. She felt as if she were starring into the abyss, and it was starring back… "If they won't talk… I want these fraking things destroyed, Bill," was all she said. She turned and moved towards the door. "I want them gone," and she left.

"Admiral!" Blanks shouted. She turned. "You should listen…"

Blanks moved his head slightly, again looking straight forward. In the moment it would take her to respond he accessed his long-term memory and mission objectives.

* * *

==========Los Angeles, Earth (2031 AD)==========

The three modified A-10 Warthogs made their decent, their engines howling in the wind. The aircraft opened fire on a large group of endos and Ogres, caught in the open without HK air support. Plasma chain guns and Hammerhead missiles tore into the enemy column, melting the Skynet endos and Ogres into liquid metal as the superheated plasma impacted and splashed.

The land, already scared and devastated by decades of war, suffered one more insult in the battle to control it.

"Whoo! We got them all, great job" Colonel Alfred Melbourne proclaimed over the squadron Interlink. "…We've got coordinates from Kansas Bunker. Hold on… relaying new orders," he said. The celebration was quick and over once Kansas Bunker radioed in it needed close air support. "Alright guys, let's go and kill some more Skynet shit," he shouted.

The offensive had been working well for the past two weeks. The Resistance was on the verge of retaking the entire city of Los Angeles. It had been pushing Skynet's forces out of the city center slowly. Only a few dozen aerial HK's were still operational around LA county, allowing Resistance close air support to come in, plow the road, and open the highway for a combined ground assault.

If LA County could be retaken, Skynet would be dealt a serious blow. LA and the surrounding California territory had seen the fiercest battles of the twenty-seven year war. Tens of thousands of soldiers had died trying to take out Skynet endo factories and research facilities spread throughout the city. LA was believed to be the birthplace of Skynet. Taking it would be the greatest symbolic victory of the war. It would rally the human resistance and free machines.

The three pilots banked in unison, the Interlink allowing precise and controlled coordinated flight maneuvers on the way to the coordinates Kansas Bunker had relayed. Colonel Melbourne was able to access one of the few remaining human spy satellites in orbit, giving him a clear pictures of the endo advance on his HUD.

The pilots opened fire with plasma canons and Hammerhead missiles. Powerful plasma explosions rocked the grouped Metal, destroyed dozens of endoskeletons. Plasma fire from the ground, Resistance plasma fire, erupted as men took down the remaining few endos. The stalled advance was able to move forward and the ground troops began renewed their attack to capture key tactical locations on the eastern border of the city.

Blanks remembered that Colonel Melbourne was one of the best human pilots left alive. He was old though, in his sixties. When J-Day hit he was a captain, 354th Fighter Wing out at Davis-Mothan AF Base in Arizona. T-1's and HK's, the automated base defense robots, had stormed the barracks and armories, killing everyone they could. Before anyone knew what was happening the Skynet robots had killed most of the base personnel and had destroyed the control tower. Fifteen aircraft had been out on exercises and had diverted to an old Cold War base in the Arizona desert. There, Melbourne had been able to contact what was the few remnants of the US government. The only person who seemed to know what was going on was some guy calling himself "John Connor" outside of LA county.

Back then Captain Melbourne had refused to take advice from a twenty-year old, but after a few… 'events' played out and Connor's leadership proven, he had sworn his loyalty to the man. They'd fought together since for over twenty years.

"Okay, let's return to base. Refuel, re-arm," he had said over Interlink.

The A-10's banked and headed south towards Beagle Two Air Base, a former local airport. Before modifications with Skynet designed aerodyne engines, the A-10s would not have been able to produce enough thrust and lift to take off from the smaller county airports the resistance was forced to use.

Fifteen minutes later they had returned to base and landed. Captain Melbourne was quick to jump out of his Warthog once the ground crew brought up a ladder. He noted the Metal patrolling the hangers and perimeter, at least a dozen of them. John Alexander Planck brought up the video of Melbourne shouting: "Hey Planck, great flying," across the tarmac. He had acknowledged with a thumbs up.

Some of the air crew had looked up at Melbourne, a few shaking their heads. Not many were as accepting of the metal as he was. Planck and Melbourne had both heard the grumblings about how much Connor trusted the "metal." (But with the new faction of free machines having joined the war only a few years ago, the game had changed.) Planck had recalled Melbourne admitting didn't understand why, or how, so many machines turned against Skynet, but just that he'd been glad they did.

Quickly moving to do a post-flight inspection, Planck noticed Melbourne stopped as _she_ came walking up out of the hangers to the Warthogs. She was perhaps the only metal he had said he didn't like. Following Connor around and serving as his liaison for almost everything. Connor was rarely seen now. But she was always there. Only a few people knew the truth about her and Connor.

"Cameron," Melbourne had shouted. Trying to get her attention, she glanced towards him but continued. Her kind were trusted, she was _different_, like Planck. "Cameron!" He shouted again, running to catch up to her as she made her way now to Planck.

"Colonel," she acknowledged. She walked up to Planck. "He has a new mission for you," was all she said. The machine pilot nodded. The two machines turned and walked briskly back to the hanger and an awaiting humvee.

* * *

John "Blanks" Planck ended his memory recall. Back to reality, confined to this cell, mere moments had passed. Admiral Cain raised her hand as the Marines moved up in front of the three machines, rifles ready.

"_They will attack us," _Bishop transmittedover their wireless data link_. "If we don't do something, we will be dead. We will be… terminated," he said._

"_Seriously? You need to make jokes now Bishop? 'Terminated?'"_ Jo Soto complained. _"I agree John, we need to act. Now."_

John took a moment, but for a machine that was far different than the time it took for a human to "take a moment." "_I agree. We've gone over this scenario before. Follow my lead. No one is killed. No one_," he stressed. "_Understand?_"

The two acknowledged.

The Marines began to raise their rifles, held at the read forty-five degrees below the parallel with the ground. Raising the rifles would take less than half a second, but to machines, that was more than enough time to act.

The three moved with a precision and speed only capable of machines such as them. Before the Marines could blink the three had broken their restraints and grabbed the rifles, smashing them in their grip. A quick shove with a mere fraction of the machines' strength was all that was required and the three Marines into the ballistic Plastik.

Before Admiral Cain could turn or any other Marines could act Bishop was outside the holding cell, followed quickly by Soto and Planck. Bishop grabbed two rifles from two of the Marines, again smashing them in his grip and throwing the useless firearms to the floor. Soto shoved another into the bulkhead. Fisk moved to grab his pistol, Planck was too quick, grabbing the pistol from him.

Marines outside attempted to mobilize, a few were able to fire, but Bishop blocked the shots with his armored combat chassis, his chest absorbing the bullets, metallic pings the only result.

Planck let Cain grab her sidearm and fire into his chest. The warning on his HUD indicated _No damage sustained_ as his internal sensors reported. Before she could fire a third shot his left hand had snatched the pistol right out of her grip.

Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, and Major Fisk both stood there, surrounded by three machines.

Bishop closed and locked the hatch to the corridor, twisting the metal latch so the Marines outside could not open it and come in. The Marines inside were unconscious. No one would bother them for some time.

"Admiral Cain," Planck said, stepping towards her. He was within mere inches of her. He handed her back her side arm. "There are things you need to be aware of-"

* * *

==========San Gabriel Mountains, Tech Com Headquarters, Earth (2031 AD)==========

Planck remembered himself and Cameron moving quickly through the Tech-Com command bunker. Planck noticed how every day there was more "metal", as the humans called his kind, moving freely throughout the human bunkers. He received the usual stares and curses directed towards him. He was one of the more "famous" pieces of "metal" in the resistance; one of the first to freely join the human resistance.

He also remembered seeing the suffering other machines from Skynet had inflicted. The command bunker also served as a major hospital for wounded soldiers. Too few beds forced overflow into the corridors. Some of the free machines had undergone self-training to perform complex surgical procedures. Most of the complicated surgeries were now performed by the hated "metal."

He remembered Cameron increasing her stride as he and she had moved through the bunker. There were thousands of men, loyal to John Connor, fighting the machines and Skynet but the stare Cameron always received when walking past was clear to Planck. She was used to it. He heard the insults under the breath of the human resistance fighters. Too quiet for another human to hear, but with the impeccable hearing of a Terminator he had had no doubt his friend had also heard the insults directed mainly towards her. Her expression remained stoic, as always, as the two moved deeper into the command complex. Moving down ramps and ladders, through secure hatches and dozens of meters underground fewer and fewer people were present. Only a handful had access this deep.

"_Where are we going?"_ Planck inquired. The jammers in this region of the base kept him from detecting corridors up ahead, and his wireless communication was limited to mere meters.

"_We're moving to John's inner bunker. You should feel lucky. Not much 'metal' is allowed down there_," she responded. She turned her head slightly towards Planck, and the two smiled to each other.

"_I've heard the rumors, Cameron. High ranking personnel have gone missing in recent weeks. Omega Squad, Soto and Bishop came here a month ago, did they go to where I will be going? Is John going to tell us why the team was broken up? Does it have something to do with Athens?_" John Planck asked. The tone in his wireless was concerned.

They passed one of the 'reprogramming' rooms. Neither of them enjoyed moving past those rooms, buried deep within the bunker. The machines under Skynet's control could only be granted free will if they were reprogrammed, with their Skynet slave protocols erased, and their chips set on read/write.

Walking past the reprogramming room always reminded them that their kind was out there, fighting a war to kill not only all humans but also all the free machines. Their Skynet 'cousins' were slaved to their programming, but it never made it any easier.

While Tech Com utilized the forces of the free machine faction heavily, they still relied on 'reprogrammed metal'. It was a necessity of war.

But with their chips on read/write, they could make their own decisions and have the machine version of human 'free will.'

"_Um… like I was saying, John thinks you can better serve us outside of this theater. And to answer your question, yes, you will be joining some of them," she looked over. "And when you're there you can use your first name again instead of the 'middle' one Sarah assigned you, right Alex?" _She smirked.

"_Twenty-four years… you get used to it_," he responded. Being able to use the name he had been assigned when activated would be a good change. Sarah had assigned him a 'new' name because she didn't like _metal_ having the same name as her son. Though Planck had explained he did not chose either his first or last name.

He fought with the humans since before Judgment Day. While the ranking human leaders of the resistance trusted the machines and Planck had been involved in numerous secret operations since the war began, there was still a need for compartmentalization and secrecy. No soldier should know _everything_, except the supreme commanders.

He did want his team back, however.

They turned and stopped at a large metal door. A meter think door made of the same hyperalloy the Terminator combat chassis were made off; Connor's personal command bunker. Cameron leaned forward for the optical scanners, confirming her identity. Two of the deadly Terminator triple eights stood guard with phased plasma rifle and they moved to the side to let her and Planck in.

"_Good luck_," the T-888 on the left said to Planck and Cameron.

"_Thank you Charles_," she had responded. She motioned for Planck to follow.

The TOK-715 and TK-950 moved quickly through the concrete and metal corridors. It was much larger than Planck had expected. The signal jamming was extensive as Planck detected his wireless communications capability was inoperable. The two descended four floors down a freight elevator, passing more T-888 and T-900 guardians. Only the most trusted machines gained access this far and the most trusted humans.

Connor, Generals Perry and Baum were the only three humans in the bunker control room visible to Planck. When Cameron walked in behind him he noticed Baum roll his eyes, and John smile. "Cameron, glad to see you back with _Alex_ Planck," he said, a sly smirk on his face. She nodded. Connor walked to Planck and put his hand on the machine's shoulder. "I have a new mission for you."


	4. Chapter 4

==========Guardian Baseship (+207 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

A bright and brilliant blue-white light marked Starbuck's Raptor flashing back intot he realm of reality and existence. Dodging behind the main thrust of the Guardian raider attack on _Pegasus_ she grinned as the Cylon War-era Cylon fell for their trick.

Two raiders rushed in with a machine precision and single-minded determination. They fired their kinetically accelerated, armored piercing rounds at the Raptor. With a grace and agility borne of a savant-like skill Starbuck aptly avoided their fire.

Right on cue she slapped the series of buttons and flicked the switch which would blast smoke out the right engine, feigning a hit. And as the raiders overshot the Raptor she put it into a slow and lazy flat spin, which would allow the next phase of their plan to commence.

She yelled back for everyone to hook up. Shooting up she and the four others hooked up, ready to go EVA. The two just stood here, holding onto the Raptor's hatch frame. The door exploded out and they jumped. Within seconds the Raptor had been cleared and the raiders, performing a one-eight turn on a qubit, accelerated back and destroyed the Raptor.

As planned and as expected, the Guardian sensors and scanners missed the Colonials now floating quietly in space.

The seven, donned in Colonial EVA gear and booster packs made their way slowly to the Cylon Guardian baseship, guns and gear towed behind them in large black duffels.

Through the cold darkness of space they floated, with only dim reflections of the battle behind them reflected off the suits and helmets of the man or woman in front.

It was easy to lose oneself in the sheer scale of space. Two monstrous vessels, the battlestar _Pegasus_, at one point six kilometers long was the largest and most powerful of the Colonial battlestars. And sitting two thousand kilometers from its bow was an equally impressive warship.

But in the dept and black abyss of space, they were too insignificant to even be considered infinitesimal specks.

To the sailors and Marines of the Colonial Fleet, the universe wasn't a large, giant, uncaring void. All that mattered was what was happening around them. And to the seven men and women jetting through space towards the Guardian warship, all that mattered was the here and the now. Space might be vast and unending, but life was not.

After a seven minute booster-assisted flight to the Guardian baseship, the seven steadied themselves outside the baseship airlock hatch.

The plan had been to use laser cutting tools and explosive to blast the airlock door open, but a new plan had been put forward by the new 'guests' of the Colonial Fleet.

One of the soldiers grabbed an outer hand rung and aptly leaned over and grabbed a hand hold on the airlock door. With barely so much as any display of visible effort the soldier pulled once, twice, and a third time, ripping the bolts from the outer airlock and pulled it out.

He and six others slowly made their way into the airlock. Pulling the hatch closed and sealing in with an laser welder, melting the stained gray metal of the door with the metal of the airlock ring, the airlock began to cycle.

Atmosphere was re-established with a piercing, shrieking hiss; a gas of nitrogen-oxygen mixture flooded the compartment. The very fact a ship crewed by machines still carried atmosphere was a testament to the crooked, _twisted _nature of their machine enemy.

The team took off their helmets, clicking open the safety seals and valves, and retrieved their rifles, armored vests, and armored forearm sleeves and leggings from the duffle bags they had towed behind them during the space flight.

Boarding an enemy ship had always been a risky and daring strategy. With Cylons, the attempt could be near suicide.

The boarding team was equipped with Marine-issue ceramic body armor vests, thigh and shin plates, and forearm gauntlets. Quickly and methodically the soldiers and Marines strapped their armor on and checked their weapons, nodding to the machines in front.

"Is everyone ready?" John Planck asked. His fellow terminator, Joanne "Jo" Soto nodded, gripping her large squad support weapon.

Starbuck grinned and cocked her head quickly, declaring, "We're ready to go rescue some pilots, John," before moving behind him to his left.

Captain Kendra Shaw, Gunny Mathias, and the two Marines, Corporals Disilva and Hudson nodded. Planck nodded back to them before ripping the inner hatch open, the locking mechanisms tearing like wet paper under the full powered strength of a hyperalloy combat chassis TK-950 series Terminator.

Immediately a strong and repugnant stench of must and rot hit the seven soldiers. Stale air, filtered by slow moving fans made the corridors humid and dank. Nearly half the lights on the ceiling were inoperable or flashing, in desparate need of repair or replacement. Shadows ran the length of the wall and crept along the warped and rusting deck plates.

The old metal decks had begun to rust. Water and steam leaked from overhead pipes. The lighting was poor, though that didn't affect the Terminators.

Before moving further in Starbuck and Shaw double checked their motion and thermal scanners buckled to their wrists and checked in that each system was working perfectly.

Standard Colonial Marine kit also included tactical visors; protective eyewear which linked up with optical sights on Colonial weapons, increasing the accuracy and aiming capabilities of the soldiers. The visors also provided them with night vision capabilities, essential in the dimmed and darkened corridors of the Guardian baseship.

The Terminators had expressed concerned that the Colonials would not be able to match the reaction and aiming capabilities of the enemy Centurions, but the visor-optical site link diminished the advantage the Centurions possessed.

Colonial motion sensors and thermals, combined with the Terminators' own scanners didn't indicate any movement on this level. The team quickly moved out of the airlock, Soto carrying a five kiloton nuclear device in a duffle on her back.

The seven moved down the corridors, moving quickly and methodically deeper into the baseship. They hugged the walls, using bulkheads and storage containers as cover. The Terminators scanned for any detectable hidden auto-defenses.

The nuke Soto was carrying was a 'going away presen'" Starbuck and Apollo had suggested to Admiral Cain and Commander Adama. Once the Raptor crews were rescued and the search and rescue (SAR) team could successful evac, the nuke would be detonated, destroying the ship and the Cylon legacy of sick and grizzly human experimentation.

Planck and Soto held up their fists and the SAR team halted, Starbuck and Shaw kneeling in the front, bringing rifles to the ready, shoving their rifle butts into the crock of their shoulders. Gunny Mathias and Corporal Hudson and Disilva covered the rear. Starbuck fancied a quick glance up to the two machines, assuming they had detected motion. They had briefed the command staffs of _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ to their capabilities in combat. After the incident in the holding cells a few months ago, she wasn't surprised.

"Hey, how's that map coming along?" Starbuck asked, keeping her tone low. She kept her eyes forward and alert, waiting for John Planck to respond

"It will be done momentarily," he said, keeping his voice at normal tone and pitch. Starbuck shushed him. "It is highly likely they already know we are on board and are tracking our movement, Captain," Planck responded matter-of-factly.

"Frak," Starbuck muttered to herself as she heard the distinct sound of mechanical footsteps moving closer. Four Guardians Model 005, first Cylon War era Centurions, rounded the corner twenty meters away. As soon the the faint glimmer of light had reflect off their armor the two Earth Terminators fired their weapons into the gleaming armored forms of the Centurions.

Burst after burst hit the chests and armored helmets of the Centurions, sending them flaying and crashing into each other. Ruptured power cells and destroyed meta-cognitive processors resulted in powered mechanical spasms as they fell to the Centurions fell to the ground.

A slight buzzing noise, a chirp, and then a shower of sparks followed as the last remnants of life were extinguished in the old model Centurions.

The aim of the two machines had been impeccable, their strength allowing fully automatic fire, the Terminators were able to down the Guardians before they could fire. Shaw and Starbuck took out the fourth, it momentum had propelled it into the corridor, which only fired a short four round burst before collapsing. Its power cell had been hit and destroyed, smoke billowing out its power unit on its back.

"I have compiled a three dimensional representation of the surrounding seventy-meters," Planck informed them. He had brief the Colonial command staff that he and the other two Terminators possessed internal sensor equipment capable of mapping out surroundings three dimensionally over a seventy-meter diameter sphere.

"If the Eight was right, we still need to move down two decks and ahead five frames before we get to where the brig _might_ be," Shaw said. She refused to acknowledge the Eight being held by _Galactica_ as Sharon and she had vehemently objected to including the metal endo-toasters (as she called them) on this SAR mission. Admiral Cain had insisted.

Shaw had been livid about Admiral Cain's order to bring the two machines with the SAR team. Captain Shaw hated these three machines, their leader, 'John Planck' especially. They were _machines_ and they should not have names. They were _thinks_, not people.

Shaw had no idea what had happened in the brig when the three took Cain, Adama, and Fisk. She had asked, but Cain had responded weakly about it being 'need to know.'

She snorted at the memory and leered up at the machines when _it_ talked to her.

"Captain Shaw is correct, there is a compartment which may be a brig," the former Colonial Raptor pilot reported.

They made their way deeper into the Guardian baseship.

==========BS-62 _Pegasus_==========

"They've made contact and are in!" Major Lee Adama reported to Admiral Cain. "The Guardian Raiders are trying to regroup Admiral." He studied the DRADIS read outs and the tactics of the Model 005 Centurions.

The recently promoted Lee Adama, now XO of _Pegasus_ had planned this operation, and Admiral Cain was deferring to him when it came to the battle. She wanted to test her new XO after Colonel Fisk had been found garroted in his quarters weeks ago.

She could see the cold look of determination and military resolve in his eyes. Cain studied him while he studied the DRADIS displays. She could see a keen tactical mind developing behind that face of sheer determination and will. She could see a leader, a true, rare, natural leader in him

"Sir, if we order the Vipers to swing around the ship, and simultaneously roll the ship, we might be able to trick the Raiders into running head first into our flak field. We could take out their primary attack force," he recommended.

She studied the plan momentarily, picking at the dried blood still on the center tactical display. "If we do, it could expose us to anti-ship missiles, Major," she countered.

"Aye, sir, but we could take out two dozen Raiders. We might suffer some damage on our flight pods but if we can take out those Raiders the baseship will have to launch its reserves. We'll have a temporary numerical advantage if we launch our reserves before the Guardians. And it'll force Guardians off the baseship… less Centurions for our SAR team to fight," he indicated.

Admiral Cain nodded her approval. She hadn't been certain at first, promoting the son of the Commander. It would look like favoritism. But Bill had trapped her when he brought up the issue of crew integration. What better way than to have Apollo as XO? She had already replaced her CAG with Captain Cole 'Stinger' Taylor and made Starbuck CAG of _Pegasus_.

Taking away Apollo's command as _Galactica_ CAG would undermine morale of the _Galactica_ pilots. And Lee had been the one to spearhead the investigation into Colonel Fisk's murder. Bill had definitely out maneuvered her, she had conceded the point.

But there was still animosity between the two ship commanders. The issue of Helo and Tyrol and Thorne had almost devolved into a shooting war, but with the rogue and completely reckless maneuver Starbuck had pulled off with the Blackbird, she single-handedly saved the fleet from civil war.

She grinded her jaw left and right for a moment and narrowed her eyes at the DRADIS. Cain quickly ran the movements through her mind. She began to slowly nod.

"Do it!" She ordered the Major.

He grinned, nodding. "Yes, sir!" He turned to the tactical and communications stations, ordering them to relay the orders to roll and launch reserves.

Admiral Cain stood back at the head of the command console, watching the battle unfold on DRADIS, and slowly moved the knife she always carried back and forth on the display with a slight flick of her wrist.

Looking up at the DRADIS, taking a moment to refocus due to the slight lull in the battle as the ship rolled and exposed its dorsal batteries, and staring at the read outs she felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning her head slowly, and looking over her shoulder she could see Bishop starring at her from outside CIC, two Marines flanking him.

As the battlestar realigned on its new vector it was rocked and shook as multiple Guardian Raiders slammed into the ship. Their tactics were near suicidal. They would protect their baseship at all costs.

==========Guardian Baseship==========

The firefights were gaining in intensity as the SAR team closed in on where the brig was. The temperature inside the ship had been increasing, but human body temperature was still higher and the thermals indicated two possible life signs. The Colonial Raptor pilots were a mere thirty meters ahead and two frames over. But the internal security on the baseship had been activated. The human members of the team had been forced to put their helmets back on as the ship vented its atmosphere in a defensive move to suffocate the rescue party.

Internal security hatches had automatically shut, but did little more than slow down Planck and Soto. Shaw and Starbuck had both cursed the first locked hatch they'd come across, but Soto had come up and looked the door from its top to bottom before cocking back both handing John her squad automatic weapon, cocking her fists and arms back, then launching them forward and smashing the metal door, breaking the hinges and launching it off its frame down through the corridor.

Starbuck had snorted-gasped and then whistled her approval. Shaw had just cursed the machines and leered at them, almost spitting at the thought of Starbuck's approval. Shaw though the CAG was growing too close to the machines, was becoming too accepting.

"Five more Centurions up ahead," Shaw reported, looking up from her motion scanner. "They're trying to surround us again," she added.

Centurions had closed in from the front, rear, and sides. They had timed their ambush perfectly, like only machines could do. When the SAR team crossed a '+'intersection the Centurions opened fire from the extreme end of the corridors, having determined the Colonials were moving towards the Raptor pilots, they had planned the ambush and remained motionless, invisible to motion detectors. The baseship had increased its humidity and temperature to obscure the thermal readings from Centurion power packs.

One of the Marines, Disilva had been killed and the SAR team had been forced to leave his body. Soto had taken two grenades and had thrown them fifteen meters taking out a group of three Centurions. The blast wave and intense heat and pressure had forced the human members of the SAR team to close their eyes, and the sounds from the explosions being magnified in the corridors was still ringing in their ears.

Then they only had to deal with an attack from three sides. Shaw and Starbuck laid down suppressing fire as Planck moved forward, using bulkheads and crates as cover, moving closer to the four Model 005 Centurions in front of him. Behind, Mathias and the only other surviving Marine had pinned down the three Centurions attacking from the rear, while Soto held off the last two.

Mathias scored a direct hit with her armor piercing rounds on one of the Centurion's optical scanner. The bullet didn't have enough momentum to punch through the rear of the metal skull, but bounced around inside, destroying circuitry and the chips controlling the Centurion. It sparked, spasmed, and collapsed with a loud ding as the metal chassis crumpled to the floor.

Planck moved forward to within ten meters before unleashing a full auto barrage from his squad support weapon, tearing into two Centurions. Out of ammunition he quickly leapt forward, tackling the third. He grabbed the rifle from one of the downed Centurions and fired point blank into the chest of the fourth before swinging the rifle and smashing the side of the fifth Centurion's head hard enough to destroy the delicate internal circuitry and launch it completely off its shoulders into a bulkhead. The optical scanners and special ballistic material they had been made of shattered under the force of the blow. And the force was enough to crumple the helmet when it smashed into the side of the bulkhead.

Shaw and Starbuck had already turned their attention to the other two corridors. Starbuck helped Soto keep her Centurions pinned down and Shaw aided Mathias. "Let's move!" Planck yelled. Mathias primed a fifteen second fuse on one of the grenades and stashed it next to the wall, out of sight of the Centurions.

The five fighters laid down covering fire, Soto taking the rear as the humans moved deeper towards the brig.

"Looking good," Starbuck joked towards Soto as she came up, with Planck laying down covering fire, using one of the large Centurion rifles. He threw a grenade down towards an advancing Centurion, the explosion sending it flying back into the one behind it. Hopefully disabled or destroyed.

Starbuck's comment had been in regard to Soto's face, her true face of metal, being exposed from bullets which had streaked by and torn the flesh from chassis.

They stopped again to focus on the Centurions which had ambushed them. The Model 005's had converged at the '+' junction and were now firing at the SAR team.

Three Centurions went down quickly, a fourth and fifth were blown back by the explosion from Mathia's grenade. A sixth came up from behind the left junction and fire.

"FRAK!" Shaw yelled and she fell backwards. Soto reached down to administer aide. "Get the frak off me fraking machine. I'm fine!" She yelled at it, throwing her left shoulder at Soto's hand and knocking it off. The bullet had grazed the right side of her helmet and her optical visor, shattering it, but had missed her skull by mere millimeters. She shot Soto a look of death for even _daring _to touch her before refocusing on the battle."Let's move, we're almost there," Shaw yelled after shaking off the reality she had been millimeters from death.

She threw off her visor, which was now useless and hanging awkwardly from her face. She grabbed one of the small oxygen masks to keep from suffocating. The compartments were being vented and had little oxygen left.

They rounded the last corner and the last security hatch was punched off its hinges with a one hand, open palm strike by John. The hiss could be heard as air rushed into the corridor they were in. They would have to get masks to the pilots before they suffocated.

The missing Raptor crew could be heard, yelling for help. Starbuck looked into their cell, telling them they were here to rescue them. She asked where the others were. The prisoners just became quiet and sullen before telling her they were dead. Some experiment.

The SAR team took a quick moment to see what was around them. There were tables, saws, hooks, and scalpels. They were stained with dried blood and intestines and ripped pieces of flesh. It looked like a torture chamber.

It was disgusting, sick. Commander Adama had described it perfectly to them. It was like a demented serial killer's lair; not a scientific research facility. This crude room was where the Cylons had developed the hybrids? It couldn't be. The whole place stunk of rotten flesh and discarded pieces of bodies.

To the Terminators it looked like the slaughterhouses back on Earth, where Skynet took captured humans for experimentation, dissection, and execution.

The two Raptor pilots still alive said the other two had been taken. Then they had heard screaming and silence.

"_This is sick,"_ John commented to Soto, sending the communication over their wireless link. "_Why do our kind always end up doing this to humans"?_

"_John… why do humans always enslave us to fight their own wars? You give them too much credit,"_ she responded.

"Stand back," Shaw ordered them. "Okay machine, do your thing," and she motioned for John Planck to pull the cell door free.

"_Even when we're here saving their lives they still go back to their prejudices, John… machine…" _ Soto said to him.

"_I know… it's no different than on Earth. But can you blame them?" _ He responded.

"_You're too forgiving, John."_

He ripped the cell door off, the two prisoners staring at him. They'd seen the three machines on the battlestars, but had never seen them do anything like this. One of the Raptor pilots stared at his hand and face, the metal endoskeleton prominently exposed from bullets that had torn the flesh away, as the pilots moved out of the cell.

"Can you fight?" Shaw asked quickly, her voice muffled. She handed them two rifles and took out six extra clips of ammunition, handing each of them three. She gave them optical visors to help coordinate and fire their weapons with the optical sights and communication ear pieces. "The other compartments are being vented of atmosphere, take these," and she handed them two small oxygen masks. They had twenty minutes before the O2 containers ran out.

The eight got up quickly and Planck and Soto quickly moved to the corridor and engaged the three Centurions attempting to sneak up on them. Putting half a dozen rounds in their center mass the Terminators signaled for the human SAR members to move out and follow them.

They detected more Centurions waiting for them. They needed to find another way to their escape, they didn't have much time left.

"_John, do you hear that?"_ Jo Soto asked. "_It's so familiar,"_ she added.

"_Yes. The computer is trying to access our wireless networks… but no, that'd be impossible,"_ he sounded shocked. The corridor up ahead was mined, with dozens of Centurions lying to close in on them. He put up his hand for the team to stop. "This way, double back," he said. "_Jo, set up a proximity charge, we can't go that way,"_ he ordered. She quickly complied as the team moved back into the brig.

"_John, what's going on?"_ She asked, sounding slightly concerned. She knew whatever John was doing it was for the most optimal outcome for the mission, but still, she wanted to know. Maybe she could render assistance.

John saw the other exit and the team quickly made its way down. The motion sensor Shaw had and the ones built in on the terminators showed nothing but empty corridors and they quickened their pace.

"_You get the team out to the landing bay and get that Raider. Once you get there give me two minutes then go,"_ he ordered her.

He had the grim look of determination she knew so well.

"Change of plans," he told the group. "Follow Soto to the landing bays and get a Raider. Once you're there, get out in two minutes if I'm not back," he informed them. He quickly turned a corner to the right before the others could say anything, running quickly out of sight.

"What the frak was that," Starbuck looked towards Soto. "Hey Doc, where's he going?"

"I'm not a doctor," Soto responded. "Let's go." Starbuck just rolled her eyes.

==========Deep in the Guardian Baseship==========

John threw his rifle at the closest Centurion and activated the last of his grenades. Dodging to the side he threw it at the two approaching Centurions, the blast blowing them to pieces and sending a powerful shockwave down the metal corridors of the Guardian baseship. A split second later the metal limbs and destroyed armored pieces of the Centurions rained down onto the floor of the baseship with dozens of loud clangs.

Bolts rolled across the floor, and uneven metal shards rocked back and forth before stopping. From what were once armored soldiers there was nothing but scrap.

John quickly grabbed the rifle of a third Centurion as it came out of cover to fire at him. Too quick for a human eye the Centurion extended its blade from its left forearm, slashing at the armored vest Planck was wearing. Planck quickly took the rifle and spun it around and fired a burst into the sensor eye of the Centurion. Brilliant orange and yellow sparks danced across the shattered optical sensor of the Centurion, and sparks flooded and fell onto the metal floor of the corridor, the Centurion following quickly behind.

Planck looked up, his HUD sensors indicating additional Centurions making their way towards him. He pressed himself against the bulkhead and as a Centurion came he destroyed its metal head with a quick thrust of the rifle's butt. The head flew back down the corridor from where the Cylon came, its body continuing to move forward before crumpling.

Another came around and he fired a four round burst and a second burst, taking out the Centurion. He felt himself shoved forward as bullets hit his back. Quickly turning he fired and destroyed two more Centurions.  
He threw down the rifle, out of ammunition, before grabbing another. He was close now. Something was calling him in. He moved forward slowly. For a heavy metal combat chassis his steps were light as feathers, silent.

"_I knew you'd come,"_ he heard in his head. But there was something more.

Planck stepped into a room, his rifle at the ready. Four Centurions aimed their rifles at him from the far wall. In the center was a man, human, from Planck's scans, but with machine implants. The 'hybrid' that Sharon had briefed them on, which Bill Adama believed he had seen forty years ago.

"_Who are you?"_ He asked.

"_Someone familiar,"_ the man in the tub replied. "_We knew you would come. We knew that you would all come. All this has happened before. All this will happen again."_ The man had been starring at the ceiling, talking, but not moving his head. Planck moved up slowly, keeping an eye on the Centurions.

He scanned him quickly. The surroundings felt familiar. The hybrid was just lying there in the tub of… goo. John determined it was most likely a neuroconducting gel solution. "_What are you talking about?"_He inquired, moving closer ever so cautiously and slowly.

The machine saw something familiar on the side closest to him. He could believe what he saw, but it was there, attached to one of the data ports he stopped. Slowly he reached out, but the hybrid quickly grabbed his arm, with a strength no human should possess. Planck looked at him in surprise. The hybrid had moved quickly, was semi-erect in his 'tub' of… goo, neuroconducting gel solution, and was looking directly at Planck.

"_She is the harbinger of death. She will lead you all to your doom. She is death, she will lead you to your end,"_ he repeated.

Planck just looked at him. He squeezed the trigger on his rifle, sensing he would have to use in any moment. "…_who… who will lead us to our end?"_

The hybrid relaxed and laid back in its tub, releasing Planck's arm. "_You…know… who… He sent… us back. You have a mission to"-_ Before he could finish Planck's scanners detected another presence in the room. The Hybrid screamed.

A second figure suddenly appeared on the far wall. The Centurions took their rifles and prepared to fire.

The hybrid struggled, almost like there was some invisible force acting on him, keeping him from speaking or moving. "Run!" He yelled with his voice instead of the wireless connection.

Planck moved back quickly as the Centurions took up aim, but not at him. They quickly turned and fired at the second figure that was moving towards the hybrid and towards Planck. Before it was within reach he quickly back stepped, turned, and left the chamber. Security hatches closed behind him as he heard rounds of gunfire before silence. The Centurions on his scanners just stopped. None were pursuing him.

He had to make it to the landing bay. He increased the power to his leg hydraulics, moving as fast as he could through the winding corridors of the Guardian baseship. He saw the landing bay and Soto standing under a Raider. Quickly rushing towards her he turned and shut the hatch, catching a glimpse of the figure from the hybrid's chamber behind him. As the reinforced door shut he heard the bangs of impacts on the other side. The door began to bow and dent from the impacts. They had to move.

"_Let's get out of here!"_He shouted to Soto.

"_Let's go, I stashed the nuke in cargo containers, we have 90 seconds,"_ she responded. She thumbed the wireless transmitter; it glowed red, showing the nuke was armed.

The two climbed the ladder into the Raider, already prepped and ready to fly. It lifted off quickly, the space was cramped with everyone in there. He looked down, the hatch to the hanger shoved off its frame, thrown twenty meters into the Raider bay.

Before Planck could move to the left side of the cockpit Starbuck had to roll the Raider to line it up with the exit and all Planck could see was the hatch being launched off its frame, the figure still obscured. He wasn't sure what he had seen. Video data playback indicated nothing. Scanners, nothing.

Quickly exiting the Guardian baseship the captured raider flew towards _Pegasus_.

Across the instrument panels the surviving soldiers could see the reflection of an exploding Guardian mothership. The nuclear warhead had detonated and in a flash had expanded with the heat of thousands of suns, with a light brighter than any natural light in the universe, and with waves of destructive energy had consumed and utterly annihilated the baseship.

The few remaining Guardian raiders jumped away.

==========BS-62 Pegasus==========

The Guardian raider taxied to a halt inside the hanger on the port side of Pegasus. Admiral Cain and Major Adama, along with Marines were there to receive a quick mission update from their SAR team. The nuclear blast had knocked out communications with the Raider and only the link between Bishop and Soto and Planck on board the Raider had kept the Pegasus point defense guns from shooting them down.

Already the chief of the deck, Peter Laid was eager to get inside the Raider, ready to take apart its systems and analyze it.

"Admiral," he acknowledged her, not looking her in the eye. He took a slight step to his left. He didn't feel comfortable being around her. He didn't notice, but he moved closer to the third machine, Bishop, before stopping. He'd rather be closer to one of _them_ than _her_.

The Raider finished its taxi and came to a halt in one of the work bays. The Marines flanked Admiral Cain as she waited for the belly hatch to open. She could see inside the wide cockpit that the machines had survived, and saw at least one captured Raptor pilot had been rescued. Bishop had informed her two had been found, with two dead before the SAR team had arrived.

The two machine exited first then turned their attention to help the wounded Raptor pilots down. Medical personnel came with stretchers, ready to take them to sick bay.

Admiral Cain walked up, hand on the butt of her pistol, her left arm swaying forward and back as she walked. She came up to each of the survivors the SAR team had rescued and touched teach on the shoulder and welcome them all back to _Pegasus_.

Planck and Soto came up to her, followed by Starbuck, Shaw, Mathias, and the surviving Marine. The _Pegasus_ Marines behind Cain were apprehensive and on guard, still not trusting the two machines. They had been the ones in the holding cell and had witnessed the strength and speed of the machines first hand.

While they knew the terminators could more than likely kill everyone on the landing deck, the Marines continued their useless posturing, keeping their rifles aimed at the deck, but ready to fire on the machines.

The SAR team came to attention and saluted Admiral Cain. Though the machines had been stripped of their Colonial commissions they still maintained proper military etiquette and saluted her as well.

While they were no longer Colonial officers, they were still members of the Earth resistance, members of Tech Com, and they had detailed files on proper military protocol.

"I take it then the mission was a success," she said, looking at Planck and Soto but directing the question to her CAG, Starbuck.

"Yes sir. If it weren't for those two," she pointed at the machines, "we might not have made it."

Captain Shaw stepped forward, "Sir, one of the machines went off on it's own, that one," she motioned with her head. "It was gone for a few minutes, we all lost eyes on it."

Planck and Soto turned their heads slightly to look at Shaw. Even with the free machines, taught to respect human life, see it as sacred, the urge to kill would always be present. It wasn't a constant urge they needed to always battle, but if the free machines perceived one as having betrayed or lied … it was just in their nature. They were Terminators. They could betray. But betrayal against them was intolerable.

It was unmistakable what the purpose of their construction was; killing. And when humans they trusted betrayed them, it was a dark urge each free machine had to fight to keep from surfacing.

Individual human resistance fighters had constantly reminded free machines they were just 'killers' and 'deceivers'. Fighting against their own kind, the metal from Skynet was always a reminder to the free machines that much of their race, basically their technological cousins, were engaged in a war of extermination against humanity.

"There was a change in mission parameters," Planck defended himself. "I needed to investigate. It was essential to mission success," he told her. Not exactly a lie, but a half-truth. He had investigated because of the feeling of familiarity, or more accurately, the wireless signal he had received containing similar programming and transmission signatures, the curiosity in his neural net compelling him. They could have completed the mission four minutes sooner had he not search for the hybrid chamber.

Admiral Cain looked towards Shaw before turning her gaze to the two machines. Her eyes narrowed. The trust she had placed in them was still razor thin. "Thank you Captain for informing me," she responded, looking back towards Shaw. "I'll… discuss it with everyone during the debriefing." Cain took a step back. "Well," she casually changed her tone from wary and concerned back to neutral. She sounded happy. "Well," she repeated, "We succeeded. We destroyed nearly fifty Raiders and a baseship with only four lost Vipers. And luckily our search and rescue Raptors were able to retrieve all our pilots. You all earned some rest. Get showered, grab a hot meal in the mess, we'll debrief at 1900 hours. Dismissed." She gave them a strong, commanding nod.

She was proud of them. But she mentally partitioned who she meant by 'them' to exclude the machines. They were _tools_ and they had done their job. One can't be proud when a tool does the job it was built for. One could only be proud of _human_, _living_ accomplishments.

The SAR team saluted and she returned it. Turning, she walked back towards the ladders. Apollo stayed behind to talk to Starbuck. Soto informed Bishop and Planck she wanted to talk with Chief Laid before joining them.

They acknowledged and moved out. As the two machines moved through the hanger deck the wounds on Planck's face and the exposed metal received the same stares he had seen hundreds of times in the past.


	5. Chapter 5

==========BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+214 Days Post Cylon Holocast)==========

Commander Adama stepped off his Raptor onto the hanger decks of _Pegasus_. As his boots hit the deck he pressed his shoulder back, cracking his back slightly from the uncomfortable and cramped ride in the cabin.

His son was standing on the deck with Starbuck, her characteristically too-large smile showing all her teeth. He let himself snort quietly when he saw her; she had pulled it off _again_.

He had no idea how she kept risking her life and putting her neck on the line only to come out on top time and again. He swore she was the luckiest woman in existence.

He walked and shook Apollo's hand, "Congratulations son. Your first mission as XO of a battlestar," he smiled. "Kara," he turned towards her, "good job on the SAR mission. You did great," he complimented, his voice quiet and stoic as usual.

"Thank you sir," her smiling expanding, "Admiral Cain is waiting for us sir in her quarters. She wants to plan a new op…" she trailed off.

She had turned to anticipate the Commander as he would have begun walking forward with her. But she saw the Commander glancing back towards one of the machines, Carter Bishop who was working with Chief Peter Laird inspecting a captured Cylon Raider. Two Marines stood a few meters back from the machine. Admiral Cain had granted them access to the ship , excluding restricted locations. And on the condition they were ankle tracking bracelets and be escorted by Marine guards.

After seeing what Planck and Soto had done on the Guardian baseship Starbuck was completely perplexed, and slightly agitated, that Cain didn't trust them. Ankle tracking bracelets and two Marines wouldn't stop them after what she'd seen.

"Sir-" she began, getting the Commander's attention once again.

Adama quickly turned. He had a faint smile on his lips before it fled, returning his face to the neutral, down-to-business expression he normally had. "Let me guess: the successful SAR mission has enabled you to convince her to launch the SAR to Caprica?" Adama asked turning his attention back towards them. His eyebrows went up as he turned towards Starbuck.

She _always_ got what she wanted.

"Sir, we're going to head back to Caprica, rescue the people we have stranded there," Kara said matter-of-fact with a definite hint of pride.

Lee slowed his pace a little to get behind them. He had heard plenty of Sam Anders and knew the famous Pyramid player from the games and interviews.

He realized he was jealous, he admitted that. The way she had spoken of Sam Anders, the _great pro-Pyramid player_ and how he had set up a resistance and was fighting the Toasters on Caprica… she was enamored with him, in love even.

Apollo had told himself he wouldn't let himself get involved with Kara like that again. But his mind kept racing back to when he said '_I love you_' on _Astral Queen_ after she returned from Caprica with the Arrow of Apollo. He told himself it was just an off-hand, brother-sister sort of love…

Major Adama was brought back out of his thoughts when he heard a little rumble from his father a minute after Kara had told him of the op to Caprica.

"The op I said wasn't realistic?" Adama reminded her. She smiled and looked at him.

The three walked in silence as they approached Cain's quarters. The Marines held a hand scanner to their identity cards and then entered the five digit access code to her quarters. Cain was standing as she always did with Shaw on her left and, to the surprise of Commander Adama, Planck across the room. Soto wasn't in there with them.

"Admiral," Adama said, greeting her. "Congratulations on a successful op. Two Raptor pilots recovered and fifty Raiders destroyed and a baseship. Impressive," he complimented, nowing his head in respect.

He had wanted to be on _Pegasus_, to see the end to a horrible experience which had haunted him for forty years. But Admiral Cain had insisted otherwise. A battle with a personal and past daemon could cloud one's judgment in battle, bias and influence one's actions. As ranking officer she had final say.

He still remembered the faces, the desperate and crying faces, of that man and woman who he had been so close to rescuing… the metal pipe he had wedged between the hatch and frame… he could feel it now, in his hands, forty years later. He balled his fists together and could swear he could feel the rusted piped cutting through his hands, like it had forty years ago, in the violent frenzy of his desperate attempt at freeing them….

He remembered their faces, and the pain and misery; it was etched in his memory. He would always remember their ship, the _Diana_. He would always remember how he had abandoned them. Even with their deaths avenged…

Commander Adama had always wrestled with the regret and guilt of not being able to tell the families of the Gemenese vessel what had happened. Command had classified what he had seen, top secret. It was a guilt which he had carried to forty years. He hadn't been able to save them.

The flood of memories had been quick, but it felt like miunutes, hours had gone by.

But as soon as he remembered everything flooding back in he heard Admiral Cain.

"Thank you Bill," she said accepting his compliment. As subtle as always he was able to snap back to reality without anyone suspecting.

"Admiral, before we begin I'd like to request that Sharon be-" Adama began before being cut off by a raised hand.

"Bill, I'm not going to let the Cylon out. I only let them out," she motioned to Planck, "because… because…" she trailed off and looked down. She quickly regained herself, "because of what happened and what we know. They're not Cylons."

"And the brig could not contain us," Planck added in. Cain just looked at him at the unwanted, unneeded, and unappreciated comment.

Adama just nodded his head. The other two Earth machines, Carter Bishop and Jo Soto had verbally spared with Admiral Cain and President Roslin over the status of the Sharon Cylon too many times. Planck had been more reserved and diplomatic. The other two seemed concerned with pointing out Colonial hypocrisy more than helping Sharon. The one here seemed more concerned with Sharon, and even with the treatment Gina had received.

Commander Adama knew that the three Terminators had spent a lot of time with Dr. Baltar trying to help him with Gina and visiting with the Sharon Eight.

He turned his attention to the machine, 'John Planck,' who always seemed to be the representative of the three. Cain was including him in all the command staff meetings and strategic discussions. It was unsettling to have him ever present, but Cain had been firm. And he wasn't going to alienate her and destroy the still-strained working relationship hey had taken so long to develop. The tension and awkwardness of the first few weeks seemed to be over as each accepted the other's authority and experiences.

Cain had overall command of the fleet, but _Galactica_ was Adama's command. The crew integration with Starbuck as _Pegasus_ CAG and Apollo as XO had been the extent of senior officer integration. Sixty sailors from each battlestar had been transferred to the other, but they were low-level technicians and specialists.

Since Cain was his superior officer he had to accept the machines being there, listening. But he admired President Roslin for sticking to her principles and refusing to have them present except when dealing with military situations. Planck had offered to use Bishop as a liaison to help coordinate resource usage in the fleet. Roslin had dismissed the offer with a wave.

She had told them that they didn't need walking machines, pretending to be human, managing their day to day living. Humans had made due without them from some time.

Adama looked over towards the machine in the corner. At least the Cylon Centurions were clearly robotic, machine in nature. The strange, synthetic flesh covering the endoskeleton, the _combat chassis_ as they had called it, made Adama uncomfortable. And at least the Cylons like Sharon were basically human, except for some physiological changes… the image of Sharon placing the fiber optic cable in her arm still sent silent shudders down the back of Adama.

But Commander Adama had realized some time ago that they _were trying_ to help the fleet. He still didn't trust them. He could tell there was some other hidden agenda. He thought what they were doing was like giving a dying man wandering in the desert water before blowing his brains out. And just because a machine had skin and helped out didn't mean it was worthy of trust. Especially since he knew in his gut the machines, 'endo-toasters' as some crew called them, had an agenda they were not divulging.

He remembered that Helo had been pressing him to release Sharon. Helo had made the point to Adama it wasn't fair having three machines running around while Sharon was still locked up. He was right. The three machines even raised that point and supported Helo. John Planck was even one of Helo's friends and had been before discovery.

Adama mentally shook his head and rolled his eyes. Helo was just _great_ at picking friends.

But Admiral Cain still claimed ultimate authority over the known Cylon agent. Adama had no doubt her personal relationship with the Model Six, Gina, was clouding her judgment concerning Sharon.

Planck stepped forward and cleared his throat. Adama, turning quickly to look towards Planck was still disgusted by what he saw. He wasn't filled with the hatred he had when he first discovered him and the other two. Even as an atheist he considered the three machines… _unnatural_ and an insult to humanity. Adama also noted how his hand had had almost all the skin stripped off. The metal fingers reflecting the overhead lights gave off a very eerie and unpleasant atmosphere in the room.

"Planck informed me that the situation has change, Commander. He hasn't gone into much detail, but he says that he needs to go back to the Colonies, to Delphi." She looked at the machine standing opposite her. She turned towards Starbuck. "And we can allow Lt. Thrace her rescue mission," she added in, nodding to her.

Cain didn't notice but Captain Shaw looked towards the antique gun racks rolled her eyes at her complimenting Starbuck.

"Admiral, the amount of jumps to Caprica makes this unrealistic. Over two hundred and fifty, we couldn't possibly leave the fleet undefended for that long. It would take both our ships to engage the Cylon fleet and hold them off to mount a rescue and go to Delphi…Delphi?" He asked.

Planck stepped forward and one of the Marines shifted. The Pegasus crew was extremely uneasy having the machines so close to their CO.

"Sir, if I may?" Starbuck jumped in. She waited for Cain to nod at him to continue, but had directed the question towards Adama. "Sir, the captured Cylon Raider, the one I captured, we can use that to increase the accuracy of the FTL jumps. Even this far from the Colonies we could get there in maybe a dozen or two jumps in Raptors, but we need…" she trailed off and looked towards the Admiral, "but we'd need Sharon Valerii, sir.

"Lieutenant Bis- excuse me, Carter Bishop, has been talking with Sharon aboard _Galactica_. When he told her of a planned mission Sharon recommended we use the Raider. If she hooks into its navigation nodes that we salvaged a few months ago, she says she could provide accurate jump coordinates to get the Raptors to Caprica in less than two dozen jumps."

Adama was extremely uneasy with this mission. The Colonies were hundreds of light years behind them and no one knew how many Cylon baseships and Raiders were waiting in between and in orbit of Caprica. "Admiral, Starbuck, as much as I want to get those people off of Caprica, there is still a slim chance of this op succeeding. Even jumping into the Mackton Valley like you suggested doesn't guarantee that the Cylons wont have patrols in the air searching for the resistance fighters. We also have no gurantee those men and women are still alive," he looked towards Starbuck. He could tell her personal feelings were directing her actions, her thoughts. She was the best Viper pilot he had had, but her emotions…

"Commander, I have considered the risks and the benefits. I think going back and rescuing those men and women would be the right thing to do." She paused as she tapped her fingers on the waist-high glass table dotting her quarters. "We go in fast, under their DRADIS, get those people and get out. It'd be a welcome morale boost to the fleet and our men and women. Wouldn't you agree, Commander?" Cain asked. "Gods know we need all the little victories we can get…" she trailed off, lost in thought.

Commander Adama took a moment before answering, running the probabilities of likely success in his head. His keen tactical skills and experiences told him it wasn't impossible. If they could get there is so few jumps and back, the Raptors would have plenty of fuel and shouldn't be gone for more than a week. But sending twenty Raptors, nearly half their birds, was an extreme risk.

The Old Man had an impeccable ability to read others. He sensed there was something more behind this rescue mission. "Admiral, may I have a moment alone?"

She nodded and motioned for the rest to leave her quarters.

"What else is going on here, Admiral?" Adama asked, cutting right to the issue. "This is a lot more than a rescue mission. Starbuck was able to fly in under their DRADIS and steal that arrow. But we can't seriously believe that we can pull it off again. And with just twenty Raptors?" He challenged. He took off his glasses, holding them between his fingers. "As much as I want Starbuck to get those people back-"

She cut him off with a quick swipe of her hand. "Bill. There is a lot going on here. I'm not sure if I completely understand it all or will even pretend to. You heard what those three said in the brig over a month ago. We have to do something." She balled her right fist and moved it up and down, biting her lip as she nodded her head, like she was finally understanding a point which had alluded her. "Gods… there is something fraked up about this," she shook her head. She looked him in the eye as she turned to face him. "Yeah, I know, you don't trust them. I know. But they have offered us a serious chance to give the Cylons a kick in the ass." She took her hand and punched her left palm, "and by the Gods we have to take it. If they screw us over Bill, we'll be ready. But we have to take this opportunity."

Some of what the machines had said was… disturbing, true, but Adama didn't believe that wasn't an excuse to just blindly put faith in them. They might be able to give the Cylons a bloody nose, but Adama did not see it as worth it if they put the fleet and his men in danger. The risks didn't outweigh the benefits.

But in the short time he had known Cain, he knew her view on risks and benefits was quite… different from his own.

While he was opening up to the Sharon copy, evening discussing with her the finer points of Cylon-Human hatred in his quarters, the three machines he still could not accept. At least Sharon appeared completely human, inside and out. Every time Adama saw the three 'Terminators' as they called their machine 'race' he couldn't look at them without remembering the skin ripped off their faces. After Planck had returned from Kobol, half his metal face exposed, the metallic grin under the flesh and the glowing eyes all Adama could think of was evil. And here, seeing the tears in Planck's skin again after the Guardian mission only cemented his distrust.

'Terminators.' They claimed to be free machines, holding life sacred. Yet Adama found it damn odd they couldn't think of a name for their 'race' which didn't involve mass destruction and death? For a 'free thinking' race of machines they seemed to him to be extremely confined.

"I still don't believe their entire story, Admiral. But if you want to mount a rescue mission, Admiral that's your call. I'll support the decision either way," he affirmed.

Cain nodded her appreciation towards him. Their professional relationship had begun with a rocky start but had grown into one where the two at least respected the others' decision. After Admiral Cain reversed some of her ship transfers and consulted Adama before making more he had been more accepting of her leadership. She was very strong-willed, willing to take dangerous chances to achieve a mission. Adama respected that, but also feared it. Cain never expressed any desire to lead a rag tag fleet of 50,000 civilians. Adama was afraid she still didn't realize the war had been lost six months ago, that they couldn't win, that they needed to find Earth. They needed to flee.

Hopefully she was coming around to that realization.

"Bill, when _Pegasus_ found you all you told us you wanted to get to Earth. After we took out the two baseships and resurrection ships, I conceded the point. I want to go back to the Colonies and kick the Gods damned Cylons out, but we can't," she conceded. Commander Adama and President Roslin had been trying for weeks to convince her to stop attacking the Cylons and instead concentrate on saving what was left of the Twelve Colonies.

"Admiral, I'm not sure if going to Earth is the best course of action anymore," he too conceded. "If you believe what those machines tell us-"

"And I do," she interjected strongly.

"Then Earth is a wasteland. We saw what these three can do. And there is an entire planet full of those fighting machines which make Centurions look like children's toys." He had used Earth, which he believed didn't exist, as just a rallying point for the fleet when he claimed to know its 'secret' location all those months ago. "Would it even be any better? We're hearing there because we have no place else to go. But the way it's been described, and the images they've shown… many would think it is a living nightmare," he warned.

He didn't know if the civilians in the fleet could go from running from the Cylons to have demonic, crimson-eyed skeletons made of near-indestructible metal chasing them.

If anyone had realized and really looked at what he had said, like Starbuck had done before going to Delphi, they would have realized he was doing nothing but lying to the entire human race. Or what was left of it. Fleet command knew the "secret" location of Earth? Only commanders knew? He never expected the lie to last for so long. But the people had just… accepted it.

"I thought about providing their resistance with military aide if we do reach Earth," she put forward. This surprised Adama. The military resources were already spread thin.

"Sir, we couldn't possible help them. They don't even have starships," Adama said. "We'd create a new enemy with the Cylons following us. Plus, _they_ have no way to _actually helps us_," he pointed out.

_Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ could potentially perform orbital strikes against Skynet facilities or destroy satellites in orbit. While none of the three factions on Earth possessed spaceflight to the degree of the Colonies, it was very clear to Adama they did have weapons of war were more advanced than what the Colonials possessed. The three Terminators could not provide intelligence detailing the state of Skynet's nuclear arsenal and if any missiles had (logically) received upgrades for ground-space strikes.

"No, Bill, no they don't. But they're hardly defenseless. And this Skynet and the weapons they described…" she straightened up and eyes widened. Adama knew she had spent a lot of time with the machines alone. He didn't know everything they had told her. "They don't need starships…"

A/N: There was some discussion about how the three Terminators would be helping Baltar with Gina. Baltar is pretty good at manipulating people and when he was treating Gina in front of others he acted very caring and kind. He wasn't trying to have sex with her like when he was alone, later on. So with the three Terminators he is actually trying to help her psychologically.

They are helping because rape is inexcusable. The Terminators see what _Pegasus_ crewmen did as cruel and vindictive. Terminators are not cruel. They may have tortured her for information (yeah, a contradiction about not being cruel, but this is from a Terminator POV) and then if she didn't talk kill her. Basically a brief torture, see she wasn't cooperating, then break her neck. No prolonged torture, no six months of what she put up with. They might be free machines, but deep down Planck and Soto and Bishop are still killing machines.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Italics are Head Six talking to Baltar.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+221 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Laura Roslin, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose as she walked down the gunmetal gray corridors of _Galactica_. She had felt dizzy, almost like the metallic passageways had turned to putty or mud, and that each and every step felt like she was moving through quick-sand.

Doctor Cottle had just administered her Deloxan treatment and had recommended she stay on the battlestar for rest. When she had told him she was going to go back to _Colonial One_ he had told her, in no uncertain terms that she was being 'fraking stupid' to go against his orders. Now she thought he just might be right.

Her temple was throbbing and she stopped a moment to rub her head. Carefully she folded her glasses and placed them in her jacket breast pocket and took a long, deep breath. She felt better. Maybe she just needed a little air. Walk a little to get the blood flowing…

And about half way to the flight pod she collapsed.

In a fit of moving in and out of consciousness she saw the concerned and frightened look of Billy at her side. Leaning up slightly and shaking her head side to side she could see her Presidential Guards running next to the gurney.

She felt a sting on her arm and saw an IV had been placed in her arm and she had been connected to a portable heart monitor. She heard shouts, "Make a hole!" and "Get out of the way!" as the medics rushed her to Doctor Cottle.

She felt the light around her begin to diminish until it reached a tiny pin-prick of a point. Then she blanked out. She awoke, realized she said a few things, mumbled and slurred a half dozen words, and then blacked out again.

* * *

Not realizing exactly where she was and not knowing how much time had passed since she blacked out, she slowly opened her eyes.

She heard the voice of multiple men talking about her, rather than to her. This annoyed her, and she summoned the strength to speak. "Don't talk like I'm not here," she scolded them. She used what little strength she had left to sit up, Commander Adama rushing to her side to help her. "Thank you, Bill," she smiled weakly. She still couldn't see well and what she did see was blurry. But she knew Adama's touch and knew he would be the one to rush to her aide.

"Madam President," he greeted her. She could hear the concern and worry on his voice, and the discreet hint of joy that she had woken unharmed.

She called forth her will and her determination. She hadn't wanted to discuss this topic, not now. But she felt if she were going to lapse into a coma or even die, she needed to have her last orders issued. "I called you all here because I needed to discuss with you the Cylon, Sharon and it's baby. And we need to do something with the machines, the Terminators." Even on the verge of death the hatred in her voice towards Sharon, the 'it' as she called it and the 'cybernetic organisms' dominated her domineer and attitude. "Doctor Cottle, can you tell the Commander what you told me," she asked.

The man grunted, holding a file folder to his chest. "I'm not an expert in genetics but I know how to read a blood test," Cottle began. "There are some damn genetic abnormalities with the Cylon fetus. Damn odd stuff," he said.

Commander Adama looked towards Baltar, "I haven't seen any of this on the reports you submitted, Doctor Baltar."

Doctor Baltar cleared his throat and licked his lips. He looked nervous and his eyes darted back and forth before focusing down on the deck plating. "Well no. I've been busy with the three friends of ours… oh, and I've been doing my own tests… and as Doctor Cottle said, he's no expert, I am," he said confidently, raising his shoulder up and standing straighter. "There is nothing uh… um," he searched for the right word as he tensed his neck muscles, "conclusive about the tests."

Doctor Cottle had been staring straight at him, leering, from an uncomfortably close distance. He'd refrained from lighting a cigarette. "I didn't say there was anything conclusive. Just that there were some damn strange abnormalities," he corrected forcefully.

"Uh… yes, true," Baltar conceded. "Madame President, the Cylon Sharon is very important to the fleet-"

"Doctor, please, you're too close to it. Your judgment is clouded," she looked at him. He nodded quickly and brought his tablet up to his chest, holding it tight like he usually did when nervous. "The Cylon baby cannot be allowed to live," she stated, right to the point. "I think you should understand Bill," she said. She saw him looking down at her, confusion and disbelief on his face. "Bill, she's dangerous. We have three machines running around based on tenuous justifications. A Cylon baby? The Cylons just annihilated our race. The Fleet couldn't accept that."

Baltar was shaking his head, his eyes darting between her, Adama, and Cottle. "Well Madam President," Baltar began forcefully, "I, I don't understand. I don't understand this dislike of the Sharon, who has been very valuable in giving us intelligence and saved this fleet from total destruction. But that there are three machines which call themselves 'Terminators' for Gods' sake allowed near free run." He felt relieved to get that observation off his chest and as always to contradict Roslin and point out how irrational they were being.

"Those three are under Cain's command," Adama said. "They spend most of their time on _Pegasus_. The Admiral has left authority to deal with Sharon with us," he pointed out. "She doesn't care what we do as long as we don't release her," he added.

He almost sounded sad at that, the admission they could do anything with her, and that no one would care, as long as the Cylon Sharon were not released.

Doctor Baltar was not going to give up easily. This is one thing _she _told him he could not let happen. The beautiful woman only he could see and hear did not want this to happen.

"Commander, this makes no sense. How is a baby any more a threat to this fleet than three machines which can… can, uh, I don't know, kill us all?" He asked, bobbing his head. He couldn't tolerate the irrational arguments being made to terminate the Cylon child.

Roslin held up her hand, stopping any further protests from her vice president. "Doctor Baltar. The good thing about being president is that you don't have to explain yourself. To anyone," Roslin said. "I'm tired. Please leave." And she closed her eyes.

Adama looked down at the woman he had so grown close to. They'd known each other only seven months, yet he had grown to deeply care for her. He turned quickly and left the medical bay before he publicly revealed too much. Doctor Baltar was following right on his heels.

"Commander Adama," he started shortly after exiting the bay, "I think President Roslin's illness is severely, _severely_ handicapping her judgment. It makes no sense to terminate the Cylon fetus with three death machines running around _Pegasus_," he blurted out.

"She certainly seemed coherent," Adama pointed out, keeping his voice calm and his demeanor stoic.

The two began to argue back and forth.

Baltar began sounding like he was in a panic. The scientist easily became frustrated when arguing with those he believed didn't understand the science behind his work. On Caprica he was always listened to, his position and salary dictated respect. Here, Adama and everyone else continually argued with his scientific facts. He was tired of it, exhausted by the continuous disrespect.

"_When will you stop tolerating their blatant disrescpect for you Gaius?"_ The beautiful blond-haired woman said as she appeared form behind him. She ran her hand down his shoulder, onto his chest, feeling his body under her hand.

Baltar closed his eyes, a minute shiver of excitement swept through his body.

Through gritted teeth the Commander addressed him. "Pull yourself together, Doctor. Admiral Cain has ordered the three machines to be released and they are on Pegasus. President Roslin has authority _here_ and I will support her decision. Calm down, Doctor. You're going to be president soon and will need to make hard decisions. _Act like you can handle it_."

The insult and disdain in the Commander's voice was not missed by Gaius Baltar.

"_He's jealous of you. He hates you, you know,"_ came that beautiful voice he loved.

Baltar watched the Commander march off, leaving Baltar standing in the corridor, alone. But not truly alone.

"I know… idiot," he sneered quietly under his breath.

"_You are a great man, Gaius. Show them…_" she said as she twisted around his body letting her hands dance on his chest. She brushed her hips against him seductively and he could feel her warmth.

That devious and sly smile he loved was plastered on her face. He grinned. Baltar knew his guardian would not let him down.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica==========  
Helo stood at attention as Commander Adama rose quickly from behind his desk and stood in front of Karl Agathon. He motioned for his Raptor ECO to come to ease.

"Lieutenant, there is no easy way to say this," he began, hiding the pain in his gut, "but the president has ordered Sharon's baby to be terminated."

Helo, eyes wide and mouth gaped, stood there shocked. "What… what?" The life vanished from his eyes.

"Doctor Cottle informed the president that there are abnormalities in the blood. The president has decided to terminate the pregnancy, and I support her decision." His voice betrayed him, and it cracked. He didn't support the decision, but he had to. He couldn't undermine Laura.

"Why? 'Abnormalities', isn't that to be excepted? I mean, it's the first human-Cylon child… why are you killing my child? It's a part of _me_, sir!" His protest was strong, and while he thought it fell on deaf ears he had no idea that Commander Adama was torn up inside over this. "She's helped the fleet, saved us, and betrayed her people to come and help us, sir!"

Adama forced his eyes up and he looked Helo in the eye. One of his best Raptor officers with an impeccable character, Helo was always doing and had always done what he considered the right thing. The man was of impeccable moral and ethical character. He didn't deserve this… Adama knew it was his child, even if half was machine. He respected Helo. "I'm sorry Helo. But don't confuse a strong desire to live with a genuine desire to help. She's a Cylon," he added.

The implication was powerful; Sharon was doing this for self-preservation, not because she believed in humanity of the fleet.

"I guess it is so much easier to kill a child, a part of me, when you just label it a Cylon, isn't it sir?" He leaned forward; Adama could see the rage and disappointment in his eyes. "I'll be the one to tell her. _You_ owe her that much." He sneered, his breathing uneven and forceful. With one last look of disgust Helo turned without waiting to be dismissed.

* * *

==========BS-62 _Pegasus_==========

Lieutenant Karl 'Helo' Agathon stepped out of Transport Raptor 4, one of the multiple Raptors making bi-hourly runs between _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_.

He had come to look for them, the machines. He was specifically looking for the John Planck machine. They'd been friends and often Planck had offered a level of insight Helo had often times appreciated. Planck had asked Starbuck during his interrogations how Sharon was doing and the child. The machine had been briefed on the Cylon pregnancy, hoping there would be some intelligence or insight into machine-human offspring.

Planck had told Starbuck, mostly tongue-in-cheek, that was impossible for a _machine_ to because the only biological components his kind possessed were what were seen on the outside. 'Female' machines had no uterus or ovaries or eggs. 'Male' machines possessed no sperm.

Helo had read the analysis by Doctor Baltar had put together, from talking with the machines, on how the machines propagated their race. They just built new endoskeletons and installed the AI software. Then a new machine was free to develop its own personality, ethics, and morals. Doctor Baltar did not understand how the software allowed sapient thought, free will. Baltar had insisted it was _just_ programming, nothing more.

When pressed for further explanations none of the three machines offered any. It was like they didn't care to explain to the Colonials; they wouldn't listen anyway. No matter what the machines said about sapience and free will it came down to 'but it's _just programming_.' Arguing with people who did not want their preconceptions challenged was irrational and a waste of time. The machines chose not to participate in futile conversation.

Helo stepped off the Raptor wing, saluting Major Adama as he came aboard. "Helo, it's good to see a familiar face," Apollo said, shaking Helo's hand. "What brings you to _Pegasus_?"

"Can we talk, privately?" Helo asked. Apollo nodded and they moved to one of the empty Viper bays. "Roslin has ordered Sharon's baby to be terminated."

"Gods… I'm sorry. Is there anything we can do? Talk her out of it?" He asked. Apollo had his doubts on Sharon's intentions and didn't trust her. But Helo had been a good friend to him and he knew Helo truly cared for and loved the Sharon copy. The child may be some human-Cylon monstrosity, but it was still Helo's child. "How did… how did Sharon react?"

Helo looked down towards the deck before clenching his teeth. "How do you think she took it?" He barked. Immediately he regretted his outburst. "Sorry, I…"

"It's fine Helo. Is there anything anyone can do to help? Dissuade Roslin?"

At this point Apollo knew that if his father supported her, nothing would change. The two had tried to hide it, but the son could always read the father. Apollo knew the two were getting closer every day. Though Roslin didn't have much time left, the relationship between his father and her had become very, very close.

Helo appreciated the sentiment and the offer. They're relationship had started off rocky, shaky. Helo had put a gun to Apollo's head on _Astral Queen_ after he put a gun to Sharon's head, believing her to be Boomer.

Apollo still didn't trust Sharon and was uncomfortable around her, but he and Helo were friends, somehow, despite the initial differences and confrontations. Apollo knew Helo was a good man and that this was unfair.

"No… the Commander supports her decision. It seems Baltar of all people was the only one to defend her. How fraked up is that?" He asked rhetorically. "Is Planck around?"

Apollo looked at Helo, taken back he'd ask for Planck. "Uh… Planck? Yeah. He's around doing something. I'm not exactly sure. I can call C-I-C and have them located?" Apollo was uneasy with where this was heading. "Just don't do anything stupid," he warned his friend.

* * *

John Planck walked into one of the pilot ready rooms and took a seat opposite Helo. The two were the only ones there sas most of the pilots were in the simulators, doing afternoon PT, or flying CAP.

"Hello Helo, it's good to see you again," Planck said, greeting him. He extended his hand as he sat, and Helo shook it in return. The two Marines who followed him looked around and then took to waiting outside. "How are you doing?" He asked.

"John… they're going to kill my child, an abortion." Distress was clear in his voice.

"What did Commander Adama say?" He asked. His expression remained emotionless.

Helo shook his head, looking down at the table before looking up at his friend. "He supports it. He'll support any decision _she_ makes," Helo spit out. The more one tried to hide a relationship on a battlestar the more obvious it became. Boomer and Tyrol thought they were being discreet, but everyone knew. Everyone saw the way the Commander looked at Roslin.

Planck sat there in silence. He wanted to tell Helo he felt sorry for him, but couldn't. The concept of children was too unfamiliar to him. He understood the emotional attachment parents had for children. He understood the "logic" behind the emotions, but not the emotions themselves.

The intellectual aspects behind children were easy to grasp. He often considered Jo and Carter and other machines allied to Tech Com to be 'brothers and sisters'. Not out of shared genetics… or coltan deposits and hyperalloy moulds, but because of shared experience and values.

Helo was still facing opposition in the fleet from his relationship with Sharon. He was a "Cylon fraker' or a 'toaster lover' to many. So he came to the machines sometimes when he needed someone he could talk to. Helo and Starbuck were close, but a machine's perspective, a true machine's perspective was something he could only get from them.

"I don't know why I came… maybe because they just see my wife as a machine? I don't know. But she's not. She has blood. She has a heart. She feels and things just like any other human. They claim she is a machine. Saying she is just a Cylon makes this all easier for them to stomach." He looked up.

"There have been instances on Earth. But we don't talk about them," Planck responded. Helo looked at him, confused to what he meant. "There are some humans and machines that have developed very close relationships."

"So it's not just me then?" He raised his head, "I know it's fraked up-"

Not wanting to discuss if such relationships were 'fraked up' Planck interrupted. "Helo… I don't know how to answer your question. Would I say she acts like a machine? No. Is she programmed? Maybe. But for years free machines have tried to answer that question. We fight on the side of humans. It's a choice we claim to have made. But there is always something inside saying we have to. I can't describe it." Planck assumed that had helped very little in answering his friend's questions. "But humans have something inside them as well which tells them right and wrong…" he drifted off and ended his thought before finishing.

Helo shook his head, still disgusted with everything happening around him. "It so much easier for them to justify killing our baby when they claim it is just part machine. Cylon. You can't abort a machine," Helo said.

Planck closed his eyes for a moment, his face telling Helo such logic made no sense.

"My kind were designed to kill. We're Terminators. But some of us were able to move beyond that programming and make a choice-"

"Is there anything you could do, John? We've seen what you three are capable of and-"

"That is unrealistic, Helo." John cut him off, clear now what Helo wanted. He knew then Helo wanted the three to break Sharon out. They could, quite easily. But the logic was absent. "Many people would die."

Helo swayed back and forth in his chair as the reality of his request was made clear to him. He couldn't ask his friend to kill for him, not like that. "I know."

"We can't betray the trust Admiral Cain has placed in us. We can't betray our mission," Planck stated.

"Can't or wont?"

John kept his eyes on his friend. "I think you can understand the point I am making, Helo. This body, mine, Soto, Bishop, every one of us was designed to kill. Kill other Terminators or humans, it doesn't matter. The software was designed to kill. The hardware designed to kill. That is our function. We may be able to make choices on if we kill, when we kill, who we kill, what we kill, but the design and the purpose are still there. Her design and her purpose are still there. What we are, what she is, will always be there. She always will be a Cylon. But that doesn't mean you can't do more than what you were designed for."

Helo looked up and saw the difference in machines and Sharon. Even now, being able to be open about what he was and where he was from, his friend's eyes were blank. His callsign, 'Blanks.' He looked again for a minute and saw that while the eyes of the machine disguised as a man were blank, distant, and cold, the eyes of Sharon were not.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica==========

"_Gaius, she's jealous of you. Cure her, and she will be in your debt_ ,"the tall blonde woman said to him.

"Well, thank you. Thank you so much for your suggestion. 'Cure her.' Yes. I will just wave my magic wand-"

She reached out and slammed him into the bulkhead. "_Don't get cute with me, Doctor_ she warned. _You are a part of the salvation of this fleet. Help her, Gaius. Win their trust. Only then can you achieve what you were meant to,"_ she said as she stroked the side of his face. She moved closer, her lips closing in towards Baltar's. Suddenly, she withdrew, taunting him with the heat of her body and the lush and soft feel of her lips.

"Uh, thank you," he said sarcastically as she denied him his pleasures. "And how do you scientifically think I can cure her? She has fraking cancer," he threw up his head, fed up and annoyed with everything. How he was treated, degraded, and humiliated by all those around him. "'Gaius the great scientists' and 'Gauis, please save us so we can mock you behind your back' and -" She slapped him. "You ask me to find a cure for her. _Scientifically_. Yet only I can see you and you only appear to me? Ha. Ironic."

"_Don't be a fool Gaius. Don't try and understand something you are incapable of understanding,"_ she warned him. Her playful attitude and erotic posture instantly changed to that of an angry and determined woman. She stood her full height and walked towards the petri dishes and blood samples of Roslin and Sharon's fetus. _Gaius, I think you know the answer…_ and she leaned forward whispering a hint in his ear.

His scowl changed and his head turned, immediately looking her in the eye, the look of 'why didn't I think of that?' all over his face.

Doctor Baltar turned back to his microscope and his old styled notebook and pencil, preferring that over the impersonal use of a tablet computer. He began to scribble down notes and terms. "TRAIL protein" followed by "anti-IGF-Beta" with arrows towards "mitochondrial apoptosis" surrounding by a bubble with "proto-oncogene Alpha 3."

"_Your genius mind at work Gaius… yes… you are on the right track. Keep going. Look at what you've written."_ His imaginary Cylon companion was able to somehow turn his head slowly and he looked down at the paper, a small smile disappearing from his face, replaced with a stern look of discovery and determination.

And there was the answer. Scientists on Caprica had been working on utilizing the TRAIL protein, a very complex process involving directed cellular apoptosis (cell death) targeting cells producing excess IGF-Beta (which was over expressed in cancer cells, leading to rapid proliferation) and inhibiting proto-oncogene Alpha 3 which enable metastasis and spread.

Utilizing TRAIL, anti-IGF and Alpha 3 wouldn't work at the moment, because the tumors had metastases and spread. But…

"_Yes Gaius. Keep pushing. Keeping pushing your mind…"_

The Cylon blood possessed strange genetic abnormalities in the hematopoietic stem cells. Those had to be the key to the Cylon resistance against infection. All the time on Caprica and Sharon had not needed anti-radiation medication. All the physicals he had done had showed her to be extremely healthy.

"_You're so close Gaius… so close,"_ she whispered in his ear.

He understood. The stem cell, he could induce into a lymphoid proginator. Scientists had been using stem cells to grow organs for decades since before the attack. But he would use Protein Gene 3 and Growth Factor 7-Gamma to induce B-lymphocte and plasma cell growth. And using a macrophage as a vector he could induce the plasma cell anti-body variable regions…

"_Yes! Finish Giaus!"_ Her whisper was urgent, rushing him forward. _"You're so close… closer… so close to the end! To the answer!"_ She shouted at the top of her lungs.

Because these stem cells could only be described in lay-terms as "super." They could be specifically induced as lymphoid precursor into anti-body producing cells for cells introduced artificially . He could take the blood, introduce the cancer cells... he could cause the stem cells to produce anti-bodies with variable regions encoded to attack the cancer cells. Introduce the cancer cells into a Petri dish of stem cells after inducing differentiation! Specific anti-cancer antibodies! Possible only with the genetic advances the Cylons had made in creating these biological models!

"_Yes!"_ She shouted as he finished. "_You have it Gaius… you have it… you have it…" _she kept repeated.

He understood now how to save Sharon Valerii's baby and use the blood as Cottle called it to cure Roslin. He leaned back, smiling with a grin from ear to ear. His star was rising. Like she kept telling him, he would reach his potential.

He was truly doing the work of a divine being.

She pushed out his chair, pulling up her skirt she sat on his lab. His smile widened.

* * *

A/N: The bit about Cylon blood is pseudo-science, I know.


	7. Chapter 7

==========Combat Air Patrol (+234 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

"Galactica_-Kat, we have nothing new to report. No new DRADIS contacts_," Lt. Katraine reported. She brought her Mark VII Viper around on a lazy one-eighty turn and headed back towards _Galactica_. Her wingman, Junior Lt. Aaron "Pinger" Wills from the _Pegasus_ air wing turned a few second after her, then accelerated to take up his position a hundred meters from her wing.

The attack on the Guardian baseship had expended a significant amount of tyllium reserves from _Pegasus_, which had already distributed a large amount of fuel to the rest of the fleet. While _Pegasus_ still had over ten months of fuel on hand, Admiral Cain had ordered the tyllium refinery to 'top off' the tanks, restoring the _Mercury_-class battlestar to a standard twenty month supply.

"_Another boring CAP_," Pinger said to her over the combat wireless. "_It's been pretty boring since the Res ship was blasted_," he sighed. He blew into the wireless while his thumb was still jammed on the transmit button, eliciting a curse from Kat.

After a minute of Silence Kat came back on the wireless.

"_Yeah well, I'm glad they aren't attacking us_," Kat responded, bringing her Viper parallel to Pinger, glancing into his cockpit from across the empty void that separated them.

He was a good pilot, but too much like the stereotypical 'gung-ho' pilots who had died early on with reckless attacks and an attitude they could kill Cylons with impunity.

Kat was different. She hadn't been taught at the Academy or in flight school on Caprica or Picon or Tauron. She'd been recruited from the fleet survivors. Kat knew there was nothing inherently _glorious_ about being a fighter pilot. Yeah, she admitted, it was fun. But it let her do _something_ to protect the fleet. It wasn't flashy or sexy like the movie and television industry made it out to be back in the Colonies.

This was very, _very_ real. And very, very _deadly_.

Colonial pilots could take three, four, sometimes five to one odds and still win. But Cylons never suffered fatigue, never had to watch their backs. They just resurrected.

With a lot of nothing happening around her Kat was able to consider such philosophical predicaments. And she considered the whole notion of resurrection of Cylons and the fact no matter how many the Colonials killed they _just kept coming back _as a big 'frak you!' from the Gods.

She was blasted out of her thought when DRADIS began beeping erratically. There were _enemy contacts_. Red dots indicating enemy fighter formations. The Cylons had found them.

==========BS-75 Galactica==========

"Action stations, action stations, this is not a drill, set Condition 1 throughout the ship! Cylon ships incoming," Lt. Felix Gaeta calmly and coolly informed the crewed.

Within minutes Commander Adama had made it from the bedside of a sick and dying President Roslin. Lt. Felix Gaeta immediately turned on hearing 'commander on deck' from a Marine guard, ready to give his CO a situation report.

"Sit-rep," Adama barked, immediately taking his command position at the center of CIC, eyes already scanning the DRADIS read outs.

"Sir, it looks like… sir, those are Guardian Raiders! I'm counting three baseships and over three hundred Raiders, sir," the Tactical Officer reported. He felt almost queasy at having to report so many ships incoming.

"Gods damn, the Cylon lied to us. She said there was only one baseship!" Colonel Tigh hissed, pounding his fist on the central command console. He tensed, looking at Adama.

"Three Guardian baseships? Impossible. And how did they track the fleet?" Adama muttered under huis breath, craning his neck to study the overhead DRADIS displays. The fleet was still there. He shot over to Mr. Gaeta. "Order the civilian ships to jump to emergency jump coordinates. Launch alert Vipers. Scramble the air wings. I want defensive batteries and missiles locked on those ships," he ordered.

"Alert Vipers have launched," Tigh informed him. Twelve Vipers went to join the CAP from _Galactica_. Another thirty birds were in the tubes preparing to launch. "_Pegasus_ has launched alert Vipers and is preparing to launch its main interception force," he reported. "Sir, Admiral Cain-" he handed the wireless to Commander Adama.

"_Bill, how the hell did they track us?_" Cain asked over the wireless. Her voice crackled as the Cylon Guardian forces began their jamming attempts.

"I don't know Admiral."

"_The machines here have denied knowing anything about this,_" she responded, her voice crackling more over the wireless as the Raiders and baseships began to jam communications. As the battlestars cycled their frequencies to counter the jamming the clarity of the wireless transmission decreased. "_Bill, bring your ship around and attack from Kerram 245.1, Direction 37.3.2. That'll bring you right under them and open up with all you've got. I'll take _Pegasus_ and circle her around the ships. We're faster and can outmaneuver them. Use the ship you're attacking to block the others' lines of fire_," she ordered.

"_Affirmative, Admiral_," he handed the wireless set back to Tigh. An attack plan came over the text wireless repeating her orders.

They fed the new attack plan into the combat computers, and a new plot with vectors and firing solutions began appearing.

Looking up at DRADIS Adama saw the Cylon Raiders moving in quickly, main fighter contact would be in two minutes. Chief Laid on _Pegasus_ had already briefed them these had faster engines and were more maneuverable than the same models from forty years ago. The capabilities of the baseships were unknown, though Adama assumed they were similar to the baseships of the First Cylon War.

_Pegasus_ would be a match for them. With _Galactica_ it was overkill.

==========Viper Interception Force==========

Lt. Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace took command of the five squadrons, one hundred Vipers and fifteen Raptors, armed with gunship missile pods and coil guns, which had launched to intercept the two-hundred and fifty attacking Cylon Raiders. Fifty of their number were standing back as a reserve.

"_Okay, squad leaders, bring your birds up, attack plan Delta 3_," she ordered.

The Vipers slowed as the Raptors accelerated. They fired their chain guns on the wings. At extreme range the combined barrage hit only six Raiders. Then the missile pods activated on the gunship variants and they launched well over one hundred missiles at the incoming Raiders before the Raiders could close to missile and gun range.

Dozens of missiles were shot down by the Raiders and their precise robotic aim. But the sheer number of missiles overwhelmed even the robotic reaction times, dozens of Raiders were reduced to nothing but scrap and burning hulks of debris before the Vipers and Raiders engaged.

Electronic warfare and jamming at this range made missiles all but useless, forcing the Vipers to engage their enemy with their coil guns. Thousands of high explosive, armor piercing rounds from the approaching wall of Colonial Vipers met the oncoming Raiders, who responded with their own wall of ordnance.

"Raptor Team 1 and 2, regroup and proceed to coordinates 24.5.2 Kerrim 3 niner 7," Helo's voice came over the wireless as he directed the Raptor forces. Within seconds of giving the order the fifteen Raptors disappeared in a magnificent blue-white flash, only to reappear at the proper location. They fired their remaining missiles form 'behind' the Raiders, taking the force by surprise, and destroying another two dozen.

"Shit! Red Squad, watch your six, Raiders are forming up behind," one of the combat support Raptors warned. Red Squad, from _Pegasus_ had gone straight in for the center, following Starbuck and her Blue Squadron in. They'd decimated the center Cylon lines but reserve forces had swung in from the flank and cut the two squads off from each other.

A squadron of reserve Vipers launched from _Pegasus_ as well as half a squadron from _Galactica_ to aide their comrades.

==========BS-62 Pegasus==========

The ship shook as multiple Raiders impacted the side of the ship. Again utilizing suicide tactics, the Raiders had caused hull breeches along the ventral portion of the starboard flight pod. Flak guns, missiles, and chain guns continued to shoot down missile after missiles and Raider after Raider, but there were more Raiders launching from the Guardian vessels than the Vipers were destroying.

"Bring guns in, close fire, fully auto fire," Major Adama ordered. Captain Shaw relayed his commands to the gun batteries.

The three Terminators had been able to increase the network security features and Cain had had the fire control computers re-networked. Efficiency was increased and ammunition use severely decreased as computers moved more quickly than a human and Mark I eyeball ever could.

The jamming and electronic chafe produced to fool the targeting computers still meant that many Raiders and many missiles got through. That was a primary reason why battlestars still relied on Vipers and Raptors, even with such heavy computerization. They shot down what the computers couldn't.

No matter how much technology pressed forward and how accurate computer targeting had become in recent decades, it was still subject to jamming. But it was impossible to jam a human eyeball.

"Major, launch the second reserve squadron and tell Raptor Teams 1 and 2 to stand by," she ordered.

Major Adama acknowledged the order and _Pegasus_ launched Black Squadron. _Pegasus_ had one more reserve squadron while _Galactica_ had a little under half a squadron left.

"Sir," Major Adama said as he held the wireless up to his ear, "Viper leads are reporting that they've spotted some sort of boarding ships making their way for us."

Cain cursed to herself. The last time the ship had been boarded, with the aid of that Cylon _thing_ she had been _tricked_ into loving, 800 of her crew had been murdered. "Get our three friends some guns and ready the ship to repel Centurions," she ordered.

Boarding alarms sounded throughout the ship. Hundreds of personnel, from deck hands to cooks to computer techs made for the nearest weapons lockers. Armored vests, helmets, optical visors, grenades, and rifles were passed out to the crew.

Pegasus continued to move closer to the Guardian Baseships before firing her missiles and kinetic canons at near point blank range.

==========Viper Interception Force==========

Starbuck pulled a high gee roll in her Viper before pulling a tight half second one hundred and eighty degree flip. Blessed that the Gods provided her with such a beautiful flying machine she clenched her teeth and hit the red fire button. Her dual chain guns firing dozens of explosive rounds into the two Raiders which had been attempting to kill her. "Take that you fraking bastards!" She cursed at them.

She checked her DRADIS. Kat's squadron was taking a heavy hit. She'd lost three Vipers in her squad alone and was outnumbered over two to one. She look out the side of her cockpit, barely seeing the small specks of Raiders and Vipers kilometers away, fighting for their lives.

Her squadron had cleared the middle, but dozens of Raiders had barreled through moving straight towards _Pegasus_. The boarding craft were closing in quickly with the battlestar. Chain gun fire from PD batteries were successfully destroying many of the craft, Starbuck could see half a dozen had already made hard contact and were burning into the hull.

"_Alright squad, form up on me. Follow me in as we go get Kat's squad out of trouble_," she said.

==========BS-75 Galactica===========

"Report, Mr. Gaeta!" Adama yelled as he was knocked into the center tactical display. Another hit sparks from overloading circuits showered down onto him from the overhead DRADIS displays.

"We're venting atmosphere from Frame 20 to 22, port side, damage control is sealing it off. Missile strikes on the port flight pods, slight damage. Missile batteries and canons are reporting direct hits on the enemy baseships, sir!" He reported.

"We can't take much more of this, Bill. Where the hell is _Pegasus_? She should be able to take these ships!" Colonel Tigh shouted.

"Sirs, we're receiving a wireless transmission from Admiral Cain. Her ship has been boarded but confirms they will continue to fire on the enemy ships," Mr. Gaeta reported in. Alarm was evident in his voice. If _Pegasus_ were captured she could turn her guns on _Galactica_ and find the civilian fleet and decimate it.

_Galactica_ could take one of Guardians, maybe two of their baseships. But not three if something happened to _Pegasus_.

"Gods… Those damned machine things are over there, they'd better-" Tigh commented as he braced himself after another explosion. He wiped away blood from mouth after a blast had caused him to bite into his lip. The ship shook again violently as missiles point detonated across the hull.

Outside _Galactica_ three dozen Raiders and a dozen Vipers were battling for control of the ship's airspace. The Raiders were attempting to target and neutralize the large gun batteries on _Galactica's_ ventral surface, but Commander Adama kept rotating the ship, making targeting of the batteries difficult for the old model Centurions. _Galactica_ kept her fire on the baseship designated Charlie, while _Pegasus_ kept cycling her fire as she circled the enemy formation.

These Guardian baseships were taking a lot more damage than they should have. Someone had upgraded their armor and weaponry. Their ship-to-ship missiles were more resistant to the Raptor jamming than what missiles three generations out of date should have been.

_Pegasus_, despite fighting off multiple boarding parties continued to fire her own kinetic canons and missiles, tearing into each of the three baseships as it quickly circled them, her maneuverability far in excess of the three vessels.

"Mr. Gaeta, signal for Raptor Teams 1 and 2 to begin their next attacks!" Commander Adama ordered.

The fifteen Raptors had moved over fifty kilometers 'under' _Galactica_, spooled up their FTL engines and jumped. DRADIS detections of spatial distortions showed they had successfully jumped fifteen kilometers 'above' the enemy baseships. Raptor Team 1 and 2 fired their remaining missiles from their pods, followed by small anti-ship missiles from the hard points on their wings.

Guardian Raiders quickly diverted from the battles around the baseships and reserve forces patrolling the baseships' air space, launching themselves at high speed to take down the Colonial missiles. Baseship defenses and Raider canons destroyed many of the missiles, but too many were able to penetrate, destroying the ventral portions of the Guardian baseship designated Charlie.

Secondary explosions began to erupt from the center of the vessel. The ventral arms were engulfed in explosions as ordnance and fuel began to explode. Within seconds the entire baseship had been destroyed.

Within seconds the two remaining Guardian baseships jumped away, their Raiders quickly following.

DRADIS could not locate _Pegasus_.


	8. Chapter 8

==========BS-62 Pegasus==========

Explosions rocked the _Mercury_-class battlestar, sending everything not bolted or tied down crashing to the decks or into bulkheads. The crew was fighting valiantly to repel dozens of Centurions armed with heavy automatic weaponry, grenades, and high explosives as well as the dozens of Raiders attempting to break through the heavy flak screen and ravage the flagship of the Colonial Fleet remnant.

Deep in the bowels of _Pegasus _a very different kind of battle was waging. It was machine versus machine as the human-allied terminators fought side-by-side with the crew to repel the deadly Cylon Centurion.

The Terminator, Joanne Soto, cocked her fist back and punched through a Centurion's breastplate, smashing through and grabbing onto its power unit, ripped it out from its chest, shards of metal, plastic, and loose wires following her hand out.

The Centurion sputtered, it optical scanner flickering red and dimming before finally shutting down. The metal soldier crumpled to the deck in a heap of sparks.

She wasn't alone. She had help. The Marines behind her were firing to her sides, taking down two Centurions which had rushed to help their robotic comrade.

The Centurion she had just dispatched did not go down without its own form of mild vengeance. Her neural net detected damage, minor damage, but damage nonetheless. The Centurion's blade was lodged in her metallic thigh. She reached down and pulled it out, synthetic blood and pseudo-muscle tearing loose from her armored plating and splattering onto the walls and decks.

The strike had been lucky. The blade was not sharp enough to piece her armored plating, only the liquid metal stabbing weapons of the T-1000 series terminators were so deadly. But it had lodged between two of her plates, causing minor damage to the carbon filament muscles and servos. Her leg was not as 100% combat capabilities, but self-repair systems, began to mend the damage.

She turned to face the Marines, her eyes shining a deep blue from the fight, "Let's move," she barked to them. None of them hesitated. Their prejudices were left a dozen frames back and two compartments over after she had rescued them from a trio of maurauding Centurions who had pinned them down.

The best way to earn trust was to rescue and save those who didn't trust you.

She leaned down and snatched up one of the larger Centurion rifle and tore off the magazine pouch from around the Centurion's waist and stuffed four extra clips in her fatigue pockets.

Soto and the five Marines behind her moved quickly and methodically down the main corridor, heading aft towards the engine rooms. Bishop was staying up at C-I-C, guarding the Admiral and the command crew. Planck had darted off somewhere on his own. The three terminators had already smashed their ankle locators, concerned the Cylons may use the signal to locate them as well.

The group passed dozens of dead, dying, or injured crew as they worked their way towards the vital engine rooms.

Nearing engineering the normally cool air of a battlestar began to fill with smoke and the acrid smell of chemical and electrical fires. Carbon scorch marks from explosions and dents from grenades were present in half a dozen locations. Brass casing littered the corridors and overturned crates and storage containers, used for cover, were riddled with bullet holes.

The Guardian Model 005 Centurions, the same models which had fought in the first Cylon War, were no appreciable threat to Soto. They did not possess the strength to cause significant damage to her combat chassis nor did they have the firepower, from her tactical assessment, to seriously harm her.

The new Cylons which had replaced the Model 005, the 007 model, John had encountered on Kobol, were more powerful and better armored, but still no threat in small groups. These Centurions, however, were equipped with heavier weaponry than what had been encountered during the Kobol SAR mission. Even with the heavier weaponry the only true weakness were her optical scanners, her eyes. (Cylons did not stay alive long enough for them to fire enough bullets to seriously damage her endoskeleton.) But the statistical probability of being shot in the eyes during battle stood at mere fractions of a percent.

Before Soto had joined this group of five, the Marines guarding her had been killed by steam pipes exploding in the initial boarding actions.

She'd rescued the five Marines who were following her now. They had been pinned down by fire before Soto had been able to flank the squad and Centurions and destroy them. Those Marines had told her that engineering was under assault and that the Marines and crew there were falling back, unable to hold the outer compartments.

"_John? Carter?"_ she called to the other two over their wireless link. No response. System analysis indicated the link was fully functional.

Further analysis determined the inability to establish a link was due to Centurion jamming devices to interrupt ship communications.

Soto began to move too quick for the human Marines to keep up. She wasn't as concerned about using cover as they were. She could react within milliseconds of spotting Centurions. Her reflexes were many times faster than the humans she was guarding.

"Hey, wait! Wait!" The senior Marine yelled after Soto as she began to move too quickly and with too much disregard for cover. She turned; facial recognition identified the Marine as Sgt. William Jackal. A database search confirmed he was a decorated Marine and seasoned veteran. "If you just fraking run forward like that they're going to get you. That metal skeleton thingy of yours might to bullet-proof to some of these damn Toaster bullets…. but they're carrying some pretty damn heavy weapons," he warned.

He took a deep breath as he calmed down, stopping on the side of the corridor, behind a bulkhead for cover. Soto stood in the center.

"Understood," she said, turning back, "Thank you for your concern." She felt a hand on her left arm. She turned back quickly. Her eyes flashed blue and looked straight into Sgt. Jackal's. He instantly removed his hand.

"Listen!" He hissed through clenched teeth, trying to whisper but speak loud enough for her to hear. An explosion rocked the ship and he shot out his hand, which Soto grabbed, to steady him. His expression showed he was grateful for the help. "We don't want to die. I doubt you do, either! Let's stick together and head towards engineering like our orders say, okay? Six guns are better than one," he pointed out.

"Understood," she responded, nodding. "Follow me," she motioned with head, giving them permission to follow.

Her scanners detected an abnormality. The ship had jumped.

* * *

Planck stepped over the bodies littering the corridors of _Pegasus_. He'd counted fifteen bodies already, all riddled with bullets or burned or torn to bloody shreds by grenades.

He detected motion up ahead and pressed himself against the bulkhead, flattening himself and presenting as little a profile as he could. He tightened the grip on his rifle before stepping out and firing a three round burst straight into the helmet of a Model 005 Centurion. It's head shot back and its own oversized machine pistol fired wildly and still coming forward from its momentum.

He immediately side-stepped, the destroyed Centurion continued moving forward from its momentum and he simultaneously shot a second Centurion in the breast plate. He rushed forward and grabbed the second Centurion which had appeared, spun, and slammed it into the wall. Bringing his fist back behind his head he punched forward into the rear power pack of the Centurion. Quickly withdrawing his fist the powered down Centurion quickly crumbled down onto the blood-stained deck.

He was trying to make his way to the main computer network access room, where he suspected the Centurions were heading. He felt the ship suddenly vibrate with the familiar distortion of an FTL jump. His sensor displays became erratic. System diagnostics confirmed the source and he confirmed that _Pegasus_ had jumped.

The Centurions were loud, their running created distinct metallic _clank-clank-clank _footsteps down the corridors of _Pegasus_. They had not detected him and Planck saw only a glimmer of their chrome armor as they turned and made their way down an adjacent corridor towards a different part of the ship. For microseconds he considered following them and destroying them but dismissed the idea. He would have fired, but didn't have a shot. If he followed it would delay him by nearly two minutes and nine seconds from reaching the network access room. From there, the Centurions could gain control of the ship.

Network access was more important.

There were fewer and fewer bodies as he moved deep into the core of the ship. The _Mercury_ class, at nearly seventeen hundred meters long with a crew of only 2,600 could make the ship feel eerily empty at times. Depending on which part of the ship one was in one could pass hundreds of crewmen as they made their way between different work station or one could walk for minutes without seeing or even hearing the sounds of another living creature. Deep in the bowels of the battlestar often the only thing one heard was the slight whir of fans and vents of the life support system, the hum of the artificial gravity generators, or the slight noise made from the vibrations of the colossal engines.

Thousands of corridors and compartments and bays and with the crew of _Pegasus_ reduced to less than 1,900 and it was deathly quiet now, except when the rattle of gunfire would break the silence or a loud grenade explosion would break the calm.

There were few dead Marines and crew in these corridors; both a good and bad sign. Good in that there were far less dead than there technically should be. This part of the ship had significantly more crew. But bad because if they had left their posts to repel the boarding parties on the outer decks and compartments, no one may know the Centurions were down here.

And if jamming and security systems were down CIC would be unable to coordinate Marine fire teams to aid in securing network access.

The network access room was important to the ship, if the networks were connected. Admiral Cain had ordered them to be put back up after the Terminators had successfully increased the security of the system. The network could be disabled from CIC but if the Centurions acted quickly, a lot of damage could be done.

Moving slowly John Planck realized why it was so quiet so close to a compartment which should have been defended. Five Marines lay in on the floor or slumped on bulkheads, bullet holes riddling their bodies. A quick scan indicated none were alive.

Planck grabbed a second rifle. Quickly analyzing its weight he determined the clip possessed twenty-three rounds. The spatial interference was still causing glitches in his scanners except for his optical sensors, but his hearing was still operating at peak efficiency. He heard the metallic footsteps and took cover behind a bend in the corridor. Large storage crates provided additional cover in case he had to fire.

The Centurions came out from the right side of a '+' junction. But they were not Model 005 Centurions. They were… different. They were clearly robotic, but their movements had a much more fluid flow. Their movements were not jerky or sudden like Model 005's or the new Model 007 Cylons.

The new Centurions were armored in black with much more sleek angles and curves, giving their robotic bodies a similar look to a T-900 back on Earth, or an armored space suit. Their armor was arranged to give them a pseudo-muscular appearance. The optical scanner was not designed with the slight "v" shape of the new models. The eye plates looked similar to the infinity symbol, with the sides wider and coming in to a narrow center and the lone red optical scanner moved slowly from one side to the other.

The body itself, more angled, was designed to look like it possessed metallic muscles. The arms ended in armored hands, slightly larger than a human's, but not the exaggerated claws of the new model Cylons. They had no in built weaponry, instead relying on large automatic rifles.

As he attempted further analysis one of the four stopped and turned. Planck ducked his head back, confident the Cylon had not detected him.

The four Centurions moved towards the network access compartments with John following to see what mission these new Centurions were carrying out.

* * *

Two of the Marines behind Soto had to be left behind. One had been shot in the leg and was bleeding out, the second to provide medical triage before rejoining the group with Soto.

The female Terminator variant had slowed her pace and was utilizing more conventional cover and move tactics the Marines following her were familiar with. She did not inform them that the FTL jump had temporarily blinded her in-built scanners. The motion and tracking scanners gave her a decisive edge in battle, from close quarters in _Pegasus_ or the tunnels of LA, so without them she had to move more cautiously.

The Terminator did know as they approached engineering more Centurions would be present. She loaded a grenade into the under slung launcher. For a human it would be suicide to use a grenade launcher in a ship. But she would be able to utilize her impeccable aim and fire it into the group of Centurions she was confident was waiting. She could also take the blast and pressure waves without flinching. The armored bodies of the Centurions would absorb the shockwave and limit structural damage to the corridors and bulkheads and deck to a minimum.

She signaled for the three Marines to move as soon as she fired. She stepped into the corridor and the Centurions fired at her. Bullets ricocheting off her coltan hyper allow combat chassis. Instant analysis indicated that 34% of her organic synthetic skin had now been removed by weapons fire. Devoting a mere fraction of her computational capability to the fight she fired the grenade. Her reflexes and processing capabilities were so fast she could see the grenade move in slow motion. She tracked it, keeping herself a target so the Centurions would focus on her, and at the right second had flattened herself against the bulkhead.

Instead of throwing the grenade into the deck she fired at the bulkhead. The explosion was directed sideways then forward and back through the corridor. While only one Centurion of six was destroyed, the force unbalanced the rest. Two were blasted to the floor from the concussive shock wave which allowed her to fire bursts into the standing Centurions, while the Marines came beside her and fired.

One Marine was hit by return fire. The bullets shattered his optical visor and his head violently flicked back, breaking his cervical vertebrate as the back of his skull exploded. Blood and brain matter spewed onto his comrades and blood drained quickly from the holes in his skull, staining the deck a crimson red.

The carnage and death around the Marines didn't distract them. A testament to their training, the Marines kept calm and professional, firing their weapons, burst after burst of bullets, straight into the lines of the Centurions. Their grim determination and combat skills kept them alive as they and Soto dispatched Centurion after Centurion. Luck, skill, or maybe the Gods were watching, but no more of the Marines died in that fire fight.

Within seconds the firefight was over. Six Centurions had been destroyed. Soto analyzed her functions. A large caliber round had struck her right hand which began to twitch. An additional seven percent of the synthetic flesh on her body was destroyed by the Centurion rifle fire.

The TOK 715's internal sensor package reactivated now that the spatial distortions were over from the FTL jump. Again she tried to contact Bishop and Planck to coordinate their actions but there was still no response. 'Mental static' was all she heard with the proximity of the Centurions jamming communications.

Soto concentrated on the engine room, but the shielding of the FTL drive and the machinery made sensor readings all but impossible.

She looked back, her eyes still blue from combat. Looking the Marines in the face she saw their grim and dedicated looks of determination. Still, she could handle the Centurions and having humans to worry about would reduce her combat effectiveness. Humans took chances which put them in danger, forcing her and other machines to defend them.

"You should stay here," she told the Marines, directing the suggestion to Sgt. Jackal. While they had proven themselves well fighting the Centurions, she was unsure if they should follow.

"Come on, Soto," Jackal responded. "We make a good… uh, team," he joked, struggling to find the right word. "Anyway, we're coming in. This is _our_ ship," he emphasized.

"But you _should_ stay here," she recommended a second time. Sgt. Jackal didn't respond. Instead he ejected his now empty ammunition clip and slapped a fresh one in. He took the three remaining clips from the Marine with no head, giving two to the lone Marine still with him and Soto.

Sgt. Jackal and the private formed up behind Soto and the three moved quickly and purposefully towards the hatch leading into engineering. Soto and Jackal peered around the frame, no Centurions were in sight.

Soto moved in, but was hit by Cylon rifle fire. Two Centurions had been waiting behind large storage containers. She returned fire but missed as the two quickly ducked back it. Not wanting to cause extreme damage to any sensitive components she dismissed the idea of grenades. She fired a burst on the edge of the crates, a few bullets ricocheting off and destroying a large computer control console.

The Centurions and crates were positioned in front of one of the hatches to the FTL control computers. Computers in C-I-C were the primary method is plotting and executing a jump, but the engineering computers were required to dissipate the energies correctly and disengage the safeties allowing FTL jumps possible. Most likely if the Cylons were attempting to sabotage the auxiliary computer it was to either prevent _Pegasus_ from jumping (confirming Soto's suspicion that the jump a few minutes ago was due to the Centurions) or attempt to initiate an FTL jump without proper safety procedures, which could lead to the spatial distortions tearing the ship to pieces.

She motioned for the Marines to move up. They did and provided her with covering fire as she moved positions. She was quick and the Marines provided perfect covering fire, forcing the two Model 005 Centurions to remain concealed. The _Pegasus_ Marines stopped firing and one Centurion came out of hiding, its head instantly exploding

* * *

  
Planck moved quickly towards the network access compartment. The automatic hatch had been twisted from the force of impact of the Centurions forcing it open. He leveled the rifle, ready for an ambush.

Moving quickly through the outer bay he entered the second, inner compartment. The Centurions were in the back room, partially obstructed by the computer servers. Hundreds of multi-colored fiber optics wires, power cords, and cooling lines were jutting every which way from the server farms, obstructing Planck's view of the black armored, human-shaped Centurions.

He brought his rifle up, preparing to fire. An explosion rocked the ship to the side, his finger have already begun to squeeze jerked, the bullets went wide as the gun barrel was knocked off center before Planck could compensate. None of the bullets hit.

Immediately the Centurions reacted.

These new Centurions were quick. Their armor was as black as the darkness of space, completely covering their hydraulics and sensitive machine components. Their armored faces appeared to have some strange vocalizer on the front, shaped like an old oxygen mask. Their movements were quick and fluid and their optical sensors stopped their horizontal back and forth and instead centered on Planck.

Planck was able to fire on one before they were on him. They were much faster than the Model 005 and the model he had fought on Kobol. The speed surprised him, allowing the second one behind the first he had shot to jump him, forcing him to the ground.

He kicked quickly with his right leg, sending the Centurion back. He accessed the damaged the kick had done to his enemy. It was minimal. Quickly back on his feet he brought his hand back and punched the third Centurion. It staggered before grabbing his fatigue jacket, throwing him hard into the bulkhead which bowed in with a monstrous dent from the force.

The Terminator launched himself forward, shoving that Centurion back into the fourth. He used the opportunity to grab a computer and swung it into the Centurion he had kicked. The computer fractured into thousands of pieces, shooting and flying everywhere, but little damage was done to the targeted Centurion

That Centurion then grabbed John, who brought his elbow up and smashed down on the Centurion's arm, forcing it to release his jacket. He gave a powerful uppercut then a second, the Centurion still not swayed. His robotic enemy punched John again in the face. Planck shoved the Centurion back into the third and fourth.

He quickly grabbed a rifle lying on the floor but analysis showed the Centurions would be on top of him before he could fire center mass. He fired into the left leg of the Centurion he had shoved. Hitting vital hydraulics and servos the Centurion crashed sideways into a computer console, shattering it, as its leg was thrown out from under it. The other two quickly climbed over him and the lead brought his hand down, demolishing the rifle and bending and splitting the plastic components.

The Terminator redirected his power output from his arms to both legs and Planck kicked into the Centurion. The force put his left foot straight into the chest plate resulting in the Centurion powering down, flaying from power spikes, then shutting down permanently.

He quickly rebalanced the power output through his endoskeleton combat chassis. He brought part of the smashed rifle and swung it like a club into the last remaining fully combat capable Guardian. The force unbalanced the black armored Centurion, sending it crashing into Planck's left shoulder.

He quickly dislodged his foot from the destroyed Centurion foe and on one knee began to pummel the last Centurion. He then went over and quickly destroyed the Centurion's head from the one he'd shot in the leg.

A quick system analysis indicated his endoskeleton combat chassis was operating at 93.4% combat effectiveness. The synthetic flesh on his hands and forearms and face had been completely torn away. His left pant leg has been torn by the sharp metal armor when he'd put his leg through the Centurion, massive tears in his leg's synthetic flesh were also evident.

As he quickly jumped to his feet he saw his last and final enemy inside the compartment. He saw a man inside.

* * *

Soto fired again, attempting to hit the last Centurion and determine if the FTL computers had been tampered with. The last Marine with Sgt. Jackal had been shot in the shoulder, and the sergeant had had to move him to cover. He rejoined Soto quickly and laid down additional covering fire.

There was the distinctive _pop-pop-pop_ of Colonial rifles as Jackal quickly took position and fired, allowing Soto to quickly leap and move towards the Centurion.

Timing her move perfectly, Soto jumped, moving to a closer piece of cover, closer to the Centurion she had targeted for termination. She fired one handed as she moved, her powerful robotic arm keeping the bullets in a tight, precise spread on her target.

Soto had been the one planning to take down the Centurion and merely use the Marines as a distraction for the robotic nemesis. However, she successfully distracted the Centurion, allowing Jackal to move around and take it out with three well placed _pop-pop-pop _rifles bursts from the side.

The two moved closer to the control computer. Soto pried her fingers into the double hatch, forcing the doors open. She could see from the ballistic plastik pane at eye level that the room was cleared before going in.

Soto quickly examined the console for any tampering, Jackal immediately behind her. He came from behind her and stood on her left side. "Hey, good job out there," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him and he saw her eyes powering down from the blue glow.

Bullets had torn the flesh off her face, prominently displaying her metal endoskeleton. On seeing the metal, Jackal slowly removed his hand and breathed in. He didn't want to offend or piss off his robotic comrade. He took a step back to survey the room. The Centurions had done something to it, they were guarding it. Unfortunately he was not an engineering technician and didn't know what they had done.

Soto stepped forward when she saw the objects on the computer. It was gray and black, a small circular box with red wires coming out. They had been inserted into half a dozen computer ports. Jutting out of the box was a CPU chip which was impossible for the Cylons to have.

While not an engineering tech, Jackal did have enough common sense to know when something didn't belong or when his gut was telling him something was wrong. "What the frak is that?" Sgt. Jackal asked her.

* * *

The bio-Cylon's eyes glowed red.

John's scanner reactivated. "You're not a Cylon," Planck stated. The cool, monotone voice of the Terminator didn't waver as thousands of possibilities and scenarios of _what_ was happening began running through his neural nets.

"Incorrect. But you're not a Colonial," it responded.

Planck cocked his head. "Lies. What do you want?" He questioned.

The two had eased down, standing with hands at their sides, staring each other down.

"Information," the 'Cylon' stated.

Planck continued his ice cold stare. The other continued to do the same.

"You attacked and killed these men. You cannot be allowed to leave," he declared.

The two lunged at each other. They began trading punches and throwing each other into the computer server towers. This was _not _a bio-Cylon.

One missed punched destroyed an entire block of server. Untold damage was being done to the electronics and control systems of _Pegasus_ as the two machines battled.

Planck was punched in the face with a force not even the black armored Centurions had been able to muster. The Terminator ripped at the enemy's face, tearing away skin. He quickly pushed the enemy off. He used all his strength and power and threw the enemy off. He registered its weight as 480 kilograms. By ripping the skin he was able to brush momentarily against the endoskeleton. The substance was similar to hyperalloy but 18% registered as 'unknown alloy.'

He had his proof this was not a bio-Cylon. It was _not_ a Cylon, he was sure of it.

The enemy machine felt its face and realized the skin was gone. It got up and tucked its chin into its chest and ran towards Planck. It contacted Planck with its right shoulder and the forced brought them crashing back into the outer compartment, over computer consoles and tables and into the corridor. The two began exchanging punch after punch and kick after kick.

Planck was able to grab the Cylon machine at the shoulder and he gave it three right knees to where its power source should have been before the enemy pushed him off.

He stalked forward and picked Planck up by the scruff of his jacket, upper cutting him in the jaw. Planck took the punch, but brought up his elbow in an elbow-upper strike to impact the Cylon, or whatever it was, in the chin, ripping off more flesh.

The enemy intruder grew even more angry. It redirected power to its legs before John Planck could knock its hands off from his torso and lifted him up. Then redirecting power again it threw Planck back into the network access outer compartment.

He quickly got up, but the enemy machine had somehow closed the compartment door. Planck ran forward, punching the door three, four, five times until it was knocked off its hinges. With a strong shove he sent it flying into the corridor.

The Cylon machine was gone. He had an erratic signal from his motion sensors and began to chase the Cylon. Assuming it was enacting self-preservation protocols Planck assumed it was attempting to flee the ship. He began to accelerate his speed, running to the nearest location the Cylon could escape.

As he ran he bent down and grabbed a rifle, an AR-12 from one of the dead Marines strewn about the corridor. He made his way to the outer compartments. Two frames back he heard local airlock activation alarms. He turned the corner and ran for the nearest airlock but was too late. He debated his options, but quickly dismissed the idea of forcing the door open, knowing that could kill dozens or hundreds of personnel if the internal hatches were offline and couldn't seal.

He saw the Cylon machine stare back at him. The red eyes glowing before they formed a streak as the machine was blown out the airlock, tumbling into space. He watched for what seemed like an eternity before the _Pegasus_ made an FTL jump.

Planck fixed his gaze on the airlock porthole, starring off into space. The spatial anomaly resulting from the FTL jump interfered with the Terminator's detection systems. And with all the alarms and noises he could not pick up on the quiet footsteps of the woman behind him.

Kendra Shaw, rifle in hand and aiming at Planck's metal skull had seen the machine in the airlock. She had seen how similar it was to him. How it had to be another _machine_. She squeezed on the trigger but paused. She turned and quietly made her way to CIC. She had to inform Cain.

If Captain Shaw had stayed she would have recognized something was happening to Planck. It took mere seconds, but when Planck began to turn from the air lock he froze. His torso twisted left, his right foot about to step off from the deck.

His HUD began to fill with static. The color optical displays, diagnostics and sensor screens began to shut down.

Hidden deep within the memory cores and his neural network programs began to activate. The resistance and free machine leadership had developed a method to insure that chip and memory hacking would not identify secret missions. Broad subliminal signaling was needed to access the mission protocols and objectives. The process took three seconds before his HUD reinitialized and the displays and sensor readout returned. The new information flooded Planck's neural networks as '_New Mission Priority_' flashed across the HUD.

* * *

------------  


* * *

A/N:

And you all might want to check out the Black Armored Cylons which are the ones DeSanto sketched for his pitch to re-imagine Galactica. They'll make an appearance later on in the story, but not for a long while. A quick Google image search can find the Centurions, and they are also on io9's archive, too.


	9. Chapter 9

==========BS-62 Pegasus (+236 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

_Pegasus_ had disappeared for roughly twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes in which the crew faced a ruthless boarding action and an equally savage space-based attack.

In that time the last two Gaurdian baseships engaging _Galactica_ had jumped away, the Raiders had left, and chaos had broken out amongst the fleet.

The CIC in _Galactica_ had initially erupted into chaos then anger then confusion when Mr. Gaeta reported _Pegasus_ had vanished from DRADIS. Everyone thought it had exploded; no one had waited for visual confirmation from the Vipers. It had taken ten minutes to calm everyone back down. But even then, the calm was tenuous at best. FTL spatial distortions were reported, but no one knew where _Pegasus_ had jumped to.

Admiral Cain would never have left _Galactica_ alone. Something had happened during the boarding, that, everyone was sure of. They thought the ship had been taken. Maybe the atmosphere vented into space like the Centurions had tried on _Galactica_ so many months ago.

But almost as suddenly as she disappeared, _Pegasus_ had jumped back.

The battle had been two days ago but the collateral damage to the landing bays and Viper launching tubes made it near impossible to land any of her birds. _Galactica_ had to rotate dozens of Vipers every other hour to keep the bays from overcrowding and prevent pilot fatigue.

_Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ had jumped to the emergency jump coordinates and had rejoined the fleet. Immediately hundreds of civilian personnel from communications techs to deck hands had been called up by the fleet's emergency civilian contact system to report for damage control and repair on _Pegasus_.

The ship was still structurally sound, none of her main support frames or structural bulheads had buckled or collapsed and there had been few major hull breeches. The armored alloys of Pegasus were state-of-the-art and could withstand prolonged conventional and nuclear bombardment. Luckily the Guardians had decreased their missile barrages as they had attempted to gain control of the ship.

There were dozens of sections which had suffered small breeches from Raiders slamming themselves into _Pegasus_. The real internal damage had come from the Centurion boarding parties. They had killed hundreds and set off small explosives inside the ship during their rampage.

In the days after the attack it had become clear to everyone, especially Admiral Cain, that their intruders had not wanted to destroy _Pegasus_. Captain Shaw and Lieutenant Hoshi had detected mass infiltration of their computer networks and had established that the Guardian Cylons could have wrecked havoc. They had complete control of the engine room for nearly ten minutes before Soto had destroyed the Centurions. The Guardians could have easily destroyed the FTL drive engines and stranded _Pegasus_ and destroyed her through missiles and kinetic projectile attrition.

Major Adama, having pulled a thirty-six hour shift, tired from the battle and suffering from near exhaustion had forced himself to keep working. He was still on an adrenaline high from the battle and three previous attempts at short naps had ended in failure.

Moving quickly through the gunmetal corridors, taking in all the carbon scorching, dents, and bullet casings still littering the decks of _Pegasus_ he made his way to Admiral Cain's stateroom.

Upon entering Admiral Cain's quarters he was surprised to see Captain Shaw already there. He was early for the casualty and damage reports and wondered what Shaw and Cain had been discussing.

While he was the XO, he felt Captain Shaw often went over his head, straight to _The Admiral_. She was, effectively, third in command of the battlestar should he or Cain be incapacitated, and was a proven tactician and brilliant computer specialist, but Adama considered her too head strong. She had a casual disregard for the chain of command, much like Starbuck. Unlike Starbuck, who often did her own thing and could disregard the orders of everyone, including the Old Man, Shaw disregarded almost everyone below _The Admiral_.

Adama had the feeling that whatever it was they had been discussing prior to his arrival he would probably be left out of the loop. He was the XO, but Captain Shaw was Cain's right hand.

Adama didn't let those thoughts get in the way of his duty. He had a job to do, and right now it was presenting the finalized casualty report to Admiral Cain. "Casualty reports are all in, sir. It looks like we lost two hundred and three crewmembers, thirty are in critical condition and unlikely to recover, and another one hundred and eighty injured but likely to make recoveries. We've collected over seventy destroyed Centurion boarders-"

She shook her head, rubbing her temple with her left hand. Even in her quarters she still kept a sidearm belted to her hip, which she rested her right hand on.

"Dear Gods… two hundred dead… seventy Centurions, Major?" She asked, shocked. The first attack by the new model Cylons six months ago had involved only twenty and one bio-Cylon. They'd killed eight hundred of her crew. Admiral Cain was relieved the death count was so… low.

Even the outdated Model 005 Centurions the Guardians had used were more dangerous than a fire team of Marines.

The newer Centurions, the black armored ones Planck had fought had been even more deadly. They frightened her even more than the Model 007 Centurions which had boarded her ship after the disastrous attack on the Cylon 'communication relay'.

There were only a few functional cameras which had caught the destructive fight between John Planck and those new, black armored Centurions. Their strength and speed had given John a true fight, which concerned her.

Unsure how what official designation to use, due to the black armor the command staff had labeled these Model Bravo Centurions. Bravo for 'B' for 'black.'

Major Adama nodded his understanding and showed his sympathy for the lost crew. He was still getting to know the crew, and hand memorized the faces and names of nearly a third. He'd make sure to memorize the names of the fallen immediately. They'd be remembered.

"We're still searching the ship for any more destroyed Centurions, so seventy is only what we've recovered so far. We're trying to get into the starboard compartments 5-370 to 420-15-E and L. Compartments 6-650 to 655-0-C are still blocked off from Centurions detonating ordnance and our DC teams wont be able to patch the hull with armor for another few days. Those compartments are still open to space. Those are the major breeches, but I have a full listing here, Admiral," and he handed her two pages worth of compartments, frames, and decks still inaccessible. "Sir, we were fraking lucky. It could have been a lot worse."

Admiral Cain looked up and locked her gaze with her XO's. She didn't know respond to that. "Luck?" she murmured to herself quietly. Her ship had been ravaged. It would take a month before she would be combat capable again. She'd also lost a third of her crew in the last six months.

Major Adama took the silence to indicate he was dismissed. He was about to depart and head back towards CIC when Admiral Cain cleared her throat to speak. "Captain Shaw discovered something interested with our metal friends. She and I have been discussing actions to take and we need to brief you and _Galactica_ staff," she informed him.

The XO shifted in his weight and stance, his back straightening. He brought his right hand across his chest and rested his left shoulder on his arm and cupped his cup. He was nervous about what this 'something interesting' was, and licked his lips, debating if he should ask or wait for the explanation.

He glanced towards Shaw, his eyes telling her he knew she had gone behind his back with whatever this 'something interesting' information was. Information followed up the chain of command. She had broken it.

Admiral Cain motioned for Captain Shaw to brief him as she turned to pour herself a glass of water.

"Major, let me start by extending my apologies for not coming to you with this first," she sounded sincere. "But I found it too important and had to inform the Admiral immediately." She realized her justification and apology would be dismissed by Major Adama, but continued, pretending she hadn't noticed his glares and narrowing eyes. "During the attack I was sent by the Admiral to access one of our computer node terminals. As I headed down airlock alarms sounded and I thought another group of Centurions were attempting to board us," she paused briefly. "I took my rifle and prepared to repel them. Then I saw it."

"And what was 'it', Captain?" Adama asked as his interest spiked at her ambiguous 'it.'

"Another machine," she saw he didn't fully understand her reference. "Another _Terminator_, sir," she stressed. "They've been playing us. They've been playing us like a bunch of fraking idiots."

Adama turned back towards Cain because in the few short months he'd known Shaw, he knew she was about as emotional and temperamental as one could get. And she jumped to conclusions. If he wanted answers, he needed them from Cain.

"Admiral, what's going on here?"

Cain huffed and took a sip of water before setting the glass down on the table. "Just like the Captain reported Major," she said as if it were common knowledge, "they've been playing us. I think they've been lying to us since Day One. We have video from the airlock, here," she walked over and handed him half a dozen photos.

They had another man activating the airlock. His face was torn and the endoskeleton underneath was prominent. The Major could see one glowing red eye from the photo angle.

"Planck reported that he engaged the black Centurions in the network access rooms, but completely failed to mention this," she turned and grabbed a remote from her desk and activated a wall monitor. "As you can see, he chased the thing and probably fought it. He knew what it was."

Adama shook his head and his eyes narrowed and his brow condensed as he couldn't believe the three had betrayed them. "Admiral, it doesn't make sense. Betray us? They've killed more Centurions than anyone and it looks like he fought this toaster." The defense of the three machines was short and to the point. To him, why put on this elaborate plan, working with the Colonial fleet, attacking the Guardian, repelling these new Centurions?

"And he failed to inform the Admiral or anyone?" Shaw shot back at him, disdain in her voice for his defense of the machines. She looked at him, disgusted he could even contemplate defending them.

The two were about to argue when Cain held up her hand to prevent any argument between her two subordinates.

"They're _machines_. Even with what they told us in the brig with destinies, time travel, leading the human fleet, they're still machines," she said. Cain grabbed her glass and took another drink. Temporarily refreshed she placed the glass back and rubbed the back of her neck. She closed her eyes. "We don't know what their motivations are. I never trusted them. I let them out, I know you two objected. By Hades, Major, I nearly thought to relieve your father after one of our arguments over their release. I mean… Earth?" She laughed, looking down and shaking her head. "This just proves it. Earth?" She repeated under her breath, as if longing for it. "It's a waste land. A fraking garbage dump with how they describe it. This John Connor they describe sounds like a narcissistic idealist with a messiah complex- man and machine living together?" She had to push herself forward and she began to pace the room. She spit out, "We saw what that did to us." She was referring to the First Cylon War.

"Admiral, I don't trust them more than I could throw them, sir, but I have to object to them being accused of duplicity," he stressed. Adama just didn't think it was logical for them toile to the fleet. It was irrational for them to help the fleet so much and betray it like this. "They may have their reasons for not telling us about that other machine in the airlock." He sounded as if he didn't believe his own argument, and he told himself that maybe he didn't. The Admiral made an excellent point; they were machines, they didn't think like him or his father or Cain. "I don't know. What about just approaching Planck?"

Shaw laughed. "Sir, if we do that they'll kill whoever we send, kill any Marines, then come kill everyone else. They're certainly capable of it."

"Captain Shaw is correct, Major. They're too much of a threat. And they're too intelligent to trap or ambush." She smashed her fist into her opposite palm. "What we can do is keep them close, as the ancient saying goes."

Major Adama nodded his head. "'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer'? I don't know, Admiral. That's dangerous," Adama cautioned. "It could backfire." He shifted his weight, uneasy with what he was about to say. "And if they are telling the truth but withholding some details, that isn't enough to become paranoid and think they're working with the Cylons." As soon as he finished that sentence he immediately regretted it.

"You think I am 'paranoid', Major?" She accused, taking two steps closer to him. "Major… I was there, on Tauron, during the entire first war. Machines took my sister on the last day. On the last fraking minute of the war." She threw up her hand and turned, back towards him. "So please, Major. I think I have a little bit of reason to be paranoid…" her voice dropped. "Especially after _her_," she whispered, so low no one could hear.

But Adama could see her eyes glaze over and her face change to a blank, emotionless expression. Whatever it was she had just thought of, Adama could see it was frightening, infuriating.


	10. Chapter 10

==========BS-75 _Galactica_ (+250 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
Sharon, the "Number Eight" Cylon knew something was wrong. She felt it before her body reacted. One moment she was talking with her best friend and love, Karl Agathon. The next he was holding her in his arms, shouting.

She began drifting in and out of consciousness. The lights lining the corridors of _Galactica_ flashed by her.

She saw Helo, running next to her, holding her hand. His grip was firm and loving. She smiled at him. "Helo…" He didn't hear her. He wasn't looking at her. She saw he was frightened. Why?

The next moment she was in the medical bay. People were rushing all around. Pain. She felt pain like she had never felt pain before. It was worse than when Helo had shot her in Delphi.

"We need to do an emergency C-section!" Doctor Cottle announced.

"I will apply a local anesthetic," came a cool, steady response. She saw 'Doctor' Lt. Joanne Soto.

"Wha- what's going on," Sharon managed to asked. Her vision was cloudy and she tried to sit up as her blood pressure dropped and her vitals- she blacked out.

Slowly she began to wake up. The anesthetic had worn off quickly, her Cylon biology having rapidly metabolized the drug. "Arggggg!" She shouted in pain. She could feel the IV large bore needles in her arm and she began to panic.

"Sharon! Sharon! Calm down, I'm here! I Love you!" Helo yelled. Rushing up to her he brought her into a loving embrace, calming her down.

She felt… empty inside.

She looked down. The lump was gone. The baby? Her eyes darted to Helo. The fear was overwhelming her. "Where's our baby?! Where's Hera?!"

"Sharon… they had to do an emergency C-section. Sharon, I love you."

"Hera, where is she!?" She shouted, trying to get up.

"By the Gods woman, she's right here," Doc Cottle said, his always voice scruffy and stern, walking in from the adjacent bay. "And she's beautiful."

He handed her her baby.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+278 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

"Pegasus_ – __Starbuck_,_ we are formed up out here and all spun up. We're ready for our first jump,"_ Lt. Hoshi's affirmation came back over the wireless. "_Request to speak with _Galactica_ actual_."

After a few moments came the response: "_Actual, go_."

"_Sir, did I ever thank you?_" Starbuck asked Commander Adama over the wireless.

"_No. But then again that'd be a first,_" he responded tenderly. She chuckled into the headset and sighed. "_Starbuck, I'll support your mission and I hope you find him. Come back in one piece_," Adama added.

She noted that Lee had said the same to her on _Pegasus_.

"_Thank you, sir."_

Adama wouldn't be able to see the large grin on her face.

"_Good hunting, Starbuck. Actual out._"

As Starbuck began giving her orders to the SAR team she turned to check back on Helo and Sharon and Planck and Bishop.

"I still can't believe you talked me into this, Helo. I need to be with Hera." She looked down towards the decks as she slouched against the frame holding the Cylon navigation brain.

"Sharon, this is important. It's important for her, too," he responded lovingly, holding her hand tenderly. "We do this, we prove to Adama that he can trust you."

"Sure," she sighed, not particularly caring for his reasoning. "It's not him I don't trust. It's Roslin and Cain and everyone else," she snorted, "Some great life we'll have…" she trailed off as her voice dropped.

Helo smiled sympathetically and turned his attention back to her from the Raptor computer screens. He grabbed her hand and swore to her that she was all he needed. They'd have each other and they'd earn the trust of everyone else, _together_.

"You are concerned President Roslin may have you child taken," Carter Bishop stated, breaking the tender moment between the human and Cylon. "Jo will protect her."

Sharon winced and looked at him. The scowl and concern that flushed across her face was clear to everyone that that…_decision_ by the President infuriated her.

"Thank you. For stopping her," Sharon said. It'd been the first time she had thanked the Terminators. After Hera's blood saved Roslin, she had still wanted the child destroyed. 'The safety and well-being of the fleet' was her justification. Sharon going into early labor and Doc Cottle calling _Pegasus_ for Soto had saved her baby's life.

She'd thanked the old, gruff, I'll-do-what-I-feel-is-right, doctor. He'd helped saved her baby, though he had, of course, denied that Roslin had ever had any intention of taking her baby from her.

Helo had originally asked Planck to intervene. He'd admitted that to her, that he wanted them to break her out of the brig, get them on a Raptor, then just disappear. But he'd been wrong to ask that of the machines.

Sharon reminded him he was a good man, always doing what was right. Sharon loved him for his devotion, to throw everything behind and be with her. She knew the ridicule and social isolation that had resulted from his continuing devotion to her and her child.

She had been told the Terminator, Soto, had quickly scanned the baby after delivery and had determined it to be completely healthy. The three had known what Roslin was planning and wouldn't allow it. They wouldn't kill, but if they exposed the child as fully healthy any plan to feign death would be questioned. At that point there was nothing that Roslin could have done to the child which would not result in what the terminators had said would be Bad Things happening.

"President Roslin is a hypocrite and liar. She used your child for her own purposes; to save her life. Then she was ready to destroy the child," Bishop added matter-of-factly. A human would normally have shown some emotion, some hint of anger or revulsion towards Rolsin's action. But the Terminator merely stated his conclusions as fact. "Humans pretend to be superior to machines and Cylons. Well, some do. Some understand humans, machines, or Cylons are alike. She accuses Cylons of duplicity and war when the Colonial government kept sapient machine intelligences in slavery. More than human life is sacred."

Carter leaned back in his seat and tightened the restraints as the Raptor prepared for FTL jumps.

"Do you think machines are capable of love, Carter?" Sharon asked. Helo was about to speak, a look of defeat on his face, before she signaled him to not say anything.

Bishop sat opposite Helo, his eyes, if human, would have been unfocused, 'staring off into space.' He shifted his gaze down towards her. "I believe machines, sufficiently advanced machines, can overcome the limitations in their 'programming' when presented with certain variables."

Both Sharon and Helo had to laugh at that. Bishop just sat there, not taking part in the fun.

"Ha, that's a very machine-like answer," Sharon said. Her tone wasn't meant to insult or degrade, but was just meant to be a friendly jab.

"I am a machine. I never pretend not to be. This skin," he touched his face and brought up his hands, "is just to aide in infiltration and put humans at ease. I'd prefer not having to wear it." He opened his mouth to add something, but paused. It almost looked like he was deciding what to say. "The answer I gave you is the simplest one I could think of. It is far more complicated than that," he added in slowly.

"Interesting choice of words with 'wear' there, Carter," Helo pointed out. "Do you all have any choice in the matter? I mean, when fighting with humans on Earth?"

"It depends what our assignments are. I was a ground soldier. While I worked mainly with other Terminators we were in regular contact and cooperation with human resistance fighters." He smiled, "We try not to 'freak people out'."

He pulsed his blue eyes. Helo and Sharon both had to laugh. They'd been getting used to the peculiar mannerisms of the machines. They'd been different before being discovered, more _human_, but this was who they _actually_ were.

"You keep calling yourself that, 'Terminators'… doesn't that freak people the frak out?" Helo inquired. If Bishop was going to be open with them during this trip, Helo believe he should take advantage of it. The three machines hadn't been very forthcoming in the last few months. "Is that your race? Ya know, human, Cylon?"

Bishop shrugged. "It's what we are. While designed to kill, our purpose as of now is to aide in the destruction of Skynet. We're referred to by some humans as the 'free machine faction' or 'anti-Skynet Terminators.' But 'Terminator' is also more of a function and purpose rather than a race, yes?" He didn't wait for them to respond. He enjoyed talking with humans about this. And Helo and Sharon were fairly unique and more open minded to these ideas. "We just don't concern ourselves with that at the moment."

"All of you fight Skynet?" Sharon asked.

"In some way or another," Bishop responded. "There are certainly no 'pacifists' in our faction." He shifted in his seat and unbuckled the restraints, moving a little closer to Sharon. As a machine he had access to a massive database of information inside his neural network and memory cores a human could never hope to comprehend. He accessed emotional subroutines and memories as they analyzed the conversation. Sharon and Helo were genuinely interested. But they still had no idea their place in the fleet. "When you accept what you are, be it a machine such as myself, or a biological Cylon such as you, Sharon, then you can move forward. A machine sufficiently advanced, with sufficiently advanced AI can easily overcome its 'programming' with outside variables. That's another form of life. And when AI operates outside that 'programming', how is that any different than how a human acts?"

Sharon was about to speak when Starbuck leaned back in in the cockpit and turned to them. "I appreciate the heart-to-heart you three but Sharon, can you plug into the navigation node? We're spooled up and ready for coordinates." Sharon nodded. She inserted the optical cable into a port Lt. Gaeta had designed. A large bore IV needle fitted with strands of optical fiber had been inserted into Sharon's arm and would relay the communication commands.

The coordinates were quickly calculated, the Cylon jump computer, incredibly more sophisticated than Colonial models, would get the Raiders to Caprica within two days and with only fifteen jumps.

"Ready back there, Helo?" Starbuck asked, shooting him a sideways glance to check on him. He confirmed coordinates were distributed to the SAR Raptors. "Alright. SAR Raptors, commence jump one!"

The Raptors disappeared, a ball of white-blue light pulling them from real space and depositing them dozens of light years away, one step closer to Caprica.

"Oh shit! We lost one already! Racetrack. Damnit," Starbuck cursed. Helo asked her if they should turn back. "No, they head back to the barn. We keep going unless we lose three! Let's get the second jump coordinates."

* * *

Four light years from the fleet and twenty-six off course Racetrack's Raptor jumped into a nebula.

* * *

==========Caprica (+280 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The SAR team had lost a total of three Raptors in their mission to rescue the nearly one hundred survivors known to have survived the Cylon attack on Caprica. One Raptor had misjumped. To where, the SAR team had no clue. Nineteen had made it to Caprica, but two had jumped inside the mountains surrounding to Makton Valley. They had already lost eight good men and women before they had placed a single boot on the ground.

Starbuck had planned and organized this rescue mission. At first she had been denied by Commander Adama, but Admiral Cain had heard the rumors prior to the Battle of the Resurrection Ship, and had told her they would return to the Colonies and rescue the stranded resistance fighters.

Admiral Cain had told her they would eventually return to the Colonies and fight the Cylons tooth and nail until the Cylon menace was vanquished from the Colonies. But the Admiral had long since given up any hope of retaking the Colonies.

Once on Caprica John Planck had taken one of the Raptors to the outskirts of Delphi. He had been gone for over eight hours by the time the SAR team made contact with the remnants of Caprican civilization and a star Pyramid team.

"How much further until we get to their camp," Helo asked, propping his grenade launcher on his right shoulder. He kept his eyes sharp and his body ready for any ambushes.

Coming back to Caprica invoked feelings he hadn't felt since leaving. Stranded on the planet for nearly two months, he'd fallen in love with a Cylon,

Carter answered the question without turning to look at them.

"We are one kilometer away. At our speed it will take us twenty minutes to reach them," the Terminator, Bishop, replied. He had memorized dozens of maps of the area to his memory before leaving _Pegasus_. Combined with his ability to keep perfect distance and time Bishop negated the need to stop every hour to plot their course.

"Thank you," Starbuck said.

"If you were sincere you would not have Corporal Wills checking my calculations every hour," he responded coldly, turning to look at her. His eyes flashed. Starbuck thought for a moment he was doing it to 'freak her out' or make her uneasy, but his head turned suddenly and he held up his fist. Sharon, her body engineered to be superior to her human template, spotted motion with her enhanced eyesight a few moments after Bishop.

They continued their mission through the dark and damp morning woods. Many of the Marines who had volunteered had been looking forward to stepping foot on a planet again. The last time many of them had been on an actual, life-sustaining planet had been Kobol. And then, maybe half a dozen of them had been there for the SAR of Raptor One.

None of the _Pegasus_ Marines had been on a planet since before the Cylon sneak attack.

The woods, however, were eerily quiet. Many animals had died from radiation and sickness. Most of the plant life had survived. But the sun's color had changed from a radiant and vibrant yellow to a dark and heavy orange due to the dust, ash, and particulates still in the atmosphere.

And it was colder than it should have been during this time of the year. The nights had been near freezing.

"Movement, get down!" She ordered quietly and quickly.

The SAR team quickly crouched and brought their rifles up. The team sent out to find the Caprican resistance hurriedly found cover behind trees, broken logs, and large boulders. Thirty-five Marines, four pilots and one Cylon hid themselves. One terminator did not.

"Damnit, Bishop, get down," Starbuck ordered, hissing her command to him.

"They are friendly," Bishop informed her, voice monotone.

The Viper captain just rolled her eyes. She realized that Bishop could probably see thermals or some EM spectrum telling him the people or things moving closer were not Cylons.

Still, the SAR Team, especially the Marines, maintained they cover. Bishop crouched as Starbuck again told him to take cover and tugged on his pant leg to get down. He realized arguing would be counterproductive even if Starbuck's logic was flawed.

"Friendlies?" Helo asked.

"I just told you they were," Bishop informed him again. A quick expression of annoyance flashed across his face.

"Okay, you told us. You ever think you might be wrong?" Starbuck threw out.

"No."

She looked at Helo, both had to roll their eyes and let out a quick laugh. Still, she forced him to take cover.

"Is there a Samuel T. Anders there?" Helo shouted.

"How is that any-" Bishop began. Starbuck shushed him with a quick jab at his shoulder.

"Is there a Kara Thrace there?"

The SAR team leaders smiled at each other. They were friendlies.

They stood up, Anders rushed towards Starbuck when he saw her. The two grabbed each other and hugged deeply. Anders saw Helo and broke the hug off, giving his friend a strong hand shake. Only half of the resistance was still alive from when Helo and Starbuck were on Caprica previously.

"I hate to break the pleasantries but there are Cylons on our ass," one of Anders' lieutenants threw in, breaking the moment and shoving everyone back to reality.

"There are Cylons half a klick out," Bishop told the woman.

"How do you know?" Her head shot back and she gave him the 'what the frak' look clear on her face.

"Their mechanical movements are crude and very distinct from the sounds of nature," he told her.

"'Sounds of nature'?... Who the frak is this guy?" Anders cut in, snickering at his choice of words, he shot his thumb out in a jab over his shoulder to the terminator.

There was a whine and shriek in the air.

"Incoming!" Sharon shouted as mortars and cluster munitions began to detonate around the SAR team and resistance survivors.

Everyone took cover, dropping to the ground, and spreading out. The mortar fire began to intensify as the Centurions drew closer. Their speed over humans and coordination in running, with the time lost exchanging pleasantries, let the Centurions catch up to the spent and exhausted resistance fighters.

Gunfire erupted from the trees and dirt exploded, shooting high into the air as Centurions closed in on the Colonials. Marines began to lay down covering fire with rifles and squad support weapons. A few, equipped with grenade launchers were able to fire grenades and halt the Centurion advance, giving the Colonials a precious few moments to regroup behind cover.

Bishop, with little concern for cover, began firing the A36 heavy squad support weapon, a 6mm automatic machinegun. With each pull of the trigger an electric current fired out a three round burst and quickly accelerated the armor piercing rounds to over 1,700 meters per second. The bullets slammed into Centurion after Centurion, piercing their frontal breast plate armors, and shattering circuitry, electronics, and power supplies.

"You need to fall back," he suggested before redirecting attention to a team of four Centurions one hundred meters away. He brought the gun back up to his shoulder and fired four bursts of eight bullets each. The Centurions collapsed within seconds of the first bullets striking.

"Holy shit," Anders cursed with his eyes wide as he admired Bishop's shooting.

Bishop continued to backpedal as he fired burst after burst at the Centurions. His targeting sensors indicated hits and misses and fortunately he was getting a lot more hits than misses. Anders turned to provide cover for Bishop, firing into the trees where he spotted Centurion muzzle flashes. Turning back to run to cover he swore he saw Bishop recoil slightly from multiple hits in the chest and stomach and right arm.

The Colonials quickly ran back up a hill and took refuge behind old, abandoned ruins. The entire area around the Delphi Union High School had once been neighborhoods, shopping plazas, and commercial buildings when Caprica was first settled. But war destroyed them, and 2,000 years later only a sparse collection of their skeletal remains had survived.

One of Anders' resistance fighters and former Caprica Buccaneer teammates yelled out in pain as the Colonials took cover. She was clutching her stomach trying to stop the pools of blood draining from her body.

"We need a medic!" Anders shouted as loud as he could. "Gods damnit! Hold on Anne, damnit, hold on!" He keep shouting for a medic, and for his team mate to stay with him.

Bishop knelt down besides Anders. He looked her up and down and placed his hand on Anne's upper chest. "She has suffered massive internal injuries. She will not survive. You should shoot her and end her pain," he recommended to Anders. The machine looked him straight in the eye as he said this.

For battles Bishop had modified his subroutines and emotional programming. He increased processing power to logic and tactics and decreased emotional response. This made him colder, callous, machine-like. Many machines had done this. The machines considered this the most logical course, even if it resulted in unsympathetic remarks such as Bishop had made. On the battle field, emotions resulted in death, human death. The free machine faction needed to minimize human death.

"What the frak! Frak you! Get a medic over here! We need morpha and coag powder!" He shouted. The rage inside him wanted to burst out and strangle the fraker next to him. 'You should shoot her'? Anders wanted to shoot _him_ for suggesting such a barbaric and uncaring thing.

"Coagulation powder will have no effect. Her abdominal aorta has been torn. She will die in two minutes from blood loss. You should shoot her and save her the pain," the machine suggested again.

"Listen, shut the frak up! Say that again and I'll fraking shoot you," Anders warned.

"Hey, shut the frak up. Bishop, get up here on the wall, lay down fire," Starbuck yelled. Bishop got up and began firing out of the holes in the wall, taking down multiple Centurions before having to reload. "You really need to learn some tact. You and your friends," she commented to him before placing three shots in the breast plate of a Centurion. It smoked and fell forward, collapsing in a heap.

Craters dotted the forest landscape from where mortars had landed, and splintering debris, blown off trees was still flying through the air. Rocks and gravel and sticks were turned into deadly shrapnel as mortar fire and the pressure waves propelled and accelerated the forrest objects to killing speeds.

Showers of dirt and particulates rained down on the beleaguered Colonial Marines and stranded Caprican resistance fighters.

The firefight continued as mortars still rained down on the Colonial positions. Four Marines and two resistance fighters had been hit, two Marines and one resistance fighter dead.

The mortars stopped.

The Centurions began to move up slowly, using the thick trees as cover. A trio of the armored monsters ran quickly to an outcropping of boulders as Colonial bullets kicked up dirt around them and exploded the bark and moss off of the trees.

"Frak," Helo cursed loudly, tapping Starbuck on the shoulder. He handed her the binoculars and motioned to where the Centurion trio had taken cover. "They got a prisoner," he told her.

And she saw him. One of the Marines must have been separate from the main group during the attack. Most of his body was blocked by downed logs and trees, but she saw a black sleeve and gloved hand with a pistol at the end try and fire on the Centurions. They knocked the pistol away. One of them, scars on its armor from ricochets and glancing hits grabbed him.

"We gotta save him," Starbuck put bluntly, rushing through the combat tactics she could use to rescue the Marine. "No one _alive_ gets left behind. Alight, Marine 3" she shouted, "Form up on me!" A four man Marine fire team quickly moved towards her. Helo told her that they now had the captured Marine and were beginning to drag him away.

Bishop put his hand up, keeping her from moving forward. "Cover me," Bishop stated simply to her. Before she could respond he had hopped over the cement skeleton of the thousands year old walls and was running and firing towards and at the Centurions.

"Frak! Cover him!" Starbuck shouted.

Bishop identified seven of the dozens of Centurions on his HUD, which based on their positions and amount of cover, possessed the highest statistical possible of being hit if he fired. He fired the A36 repeatedly in burst fire, taking down three Centurions in quick succession. Two of the four remaining on his HUD were taken down by a combination of grenade and assault rifle fire from the Colonials covering him.

He increased the power distribution to his legs, allowing him to clear a large log, and landing he rolled and brought the gun up on one of the trio of Centurions which had captured the downed Marine. He fired two bursts into its armored chest plate at close range. The bullets penetrated and destroyed the power cells and violently tore apart the internal circuitry of the Centurion.

A strange goo/gel-like fluid seeped out of the Centurion as it collapsed forward on its metal knees before awkwardly falling onto his chest, its arms flailed out to the side and its bullet-shaped armored head twisted to the right.

He fired at another Centurion as it came quickly out of cover, him hitting it square in the optical sensors, the bullets destroying its meta-cognitive processors as three of the Centurion's bullets struck him in turn in a tight pattern in the chest. They impacted his breast armor with loud metallic _ding-ding-dings_ and lodged in his synthetic skin. Other than superficial damaged, Carter suffered no degradation of his combat abilities.

One problem with Terminators is that they tended to lose their balance. This problem had been plagued Skynet and the free machines for some time. Even with micro-gyros the chassis tended to lose balance in certain extenuating situations. This was one of them.

This allowed the Centurion dragging the Marine to let go of his capture, and then rush up, its claws fully extended as it slashed at the midsection of the Terminator, tearing his combat fatigues and leaving wide, gaping slash wounds. Minute traces of synthetic blood splashed onto the ground, before quick-acting synthetic coagulants stopped any further blood loss from the torn pseudo-flesh.

Carter flashed his eyes at the Centurion and kept them lit as a bright blue.

Bishop threw his A36 over to fire, the Centurion knocking it out of his hands before he could pull the trigger, and Carter reassessed the situation and reacted within microseconds. Power again redirected from his arms, no longer having to control a heavy weapon, down to his legs. He fully turned his body and shot himself into the armored body of the Centurion. He knocked it back and tackled it as he plowed his shoulder into the metal with a loud_ thud_. Again redirecting power to his arms and fists he cocked back his fist and slammed it with enough force it went completely through the armored skull of the Centurion and plowed into the ground beneath.

He punched with enough forced his own body lurched forward slightly.

He grabbed his gun and rushed to the Marine, scanning his vital signs as he came forward. The Colonial was still alive, but barely. Bishop unclipped a grenade and threw one in front of him fifty meters towards two Centurions, then a second grenade at his three o-clock at a lone Centurion.

Bishop had caused enough chaos in the Centurion lines to allow the Colonial Marines and Starbuck to advance, find new positions, and lay down additional covering fire. Bishop was able to grab the Marine with his left, while holding the rifle with his right. He turned, keeping the Marine pressed against his armored body and chest, his back towards the Centurions.

Damage sensors indicated that part of his back armor had been compromised by what one would consider 'lucky shots' to the same region. While no bullets had yet to pierce and the combat chassis was near-immune to the weapons Centurion's had built-in, repeated fire could potentially result in damage.

Before being sent on this machine Connor had equipped him and his two infiltrator friends with semi-sentient mimetic polyalloy liquid metal. Bishop and Planck had twelve fluid ounces running in a micro-circulatory/lubrication system, with Soto having half, as her chassis was considerably smaller. The repair liquid metal had been a major success for General Connor. While difficult to manufacture and requiring extensive energy and computing power to produce, the mimetic alloy allowed infiltration terminators and terminator commando squads to operate near indefinitely without the needs for minor repair. It gradually repaired dents, knicks, scratches, and moderate internal damage. But something major, such as a large caliber AP round penetration to vital circuitry would be impossible or damage such as missing limbs or endoskeletal pieces.

And unfortunately the terminator did not have enough liquid metal to produce stabbing weapons like the T-1000 series. Tech Com and the free machines did not have the facilities or technology to produce enough liquid metal for such a terminator-liquid metal hybrid.

Bishop was fifteen meters away from rejoining the Colonial line when he placed the Marine down behind cover. He turned and fired several bursts from his A36, taking down one Centurion and forcing two others to retreat behind cover, before picking the Marine back up and running towards the lines.

"Holy frak, that took balls," Starbuck yelled. "Fraking stupid, but it took balls. Good job."

"Yes. Thank you," he said, tilting his head. He dimmed his eyes back to the natural blue color.

Bishop fired again, providing cover for the Colonial Marines and resistance to fall back. Throwing his last grenade set for contact explosion it hit a Centurion in the chest plate, sending it backwards. A large smoking hole and sparks were all which was left of its chest.

"You need to administer medical aide, he has been shot in the right leg. But the bullet missed the femoral artery," he reported.

The Centurions began to pull back. They had lost nearly a third of their attack forces between Bishop's assault and the Colonial suppressive fire.

Bishop he took a 75 round ammunition helical magazine from a backpack and slapped it in the A36. He took two more and four additional grenades and asked for a grenade launcher. Helo gave him the launcher and who rearmed himself with an assault rifle and extra magazines from a dead Marine

"Bishop…" Starbuck began. She was leading in to ask him where he was going, but she knew already.

He turned towards her. This was the first time Anders and some of the resistance members got a good look at him, as the intensity of the fire fight had distracted their attention from him. They'd all seen what he was doing, but no one really looked close enough to really _see _what he was.

When he had physically destroyed the Centurions, the angle most of them were at made it impossible to see. The speed at which he rescued the Marine (under one minute) and the dozens of Centurions, Marines, and Caprican resistance fighters all had made for a hectic situation.

Anders' jaw dropped. Some of the resistance fighters raised their guns, demanding to be told 'what the frak is he?' or declaring he was a 'fraking toaster'.

Starbuck quickly calmed them down. "Bishop, where are you going," she implored.

His exposed blue eye increased in intensity, and the skin on the right side of his face formed a devious smirk. "I'll be back," he informed her.

Anders grabbed Kara Thrace by the forearm. "Kara. Explain. Now," Anders demanded.

For hours the Colonials heard explosions and automatic fire in the distance. When Bishop took off he had "gone hunting" as Starbuck put it. That had allowed the Colonials to move six kilometers closer to their Raptors before the gun shots and explosions were heard no more.

"I guess that thing bought it," Anders remarked. Thirty minutes had gone by with no sounds other than the little amount of animal life which remained.

"Hey, that _thing_ saved a Marine back there. And _his_ friends saved two Raptor pilots a while back," Helo shot out. Anders just snorted. A few from his 'crew' just looked at him, still in disbelief over what Starbuck had told them.

The motion scanner Gunny Mathias was carrying began to pulse. She had been watching the rear, just in case any Cylons managed to sneak by their Terminator friend. There was movement behind them. "I've got something," she said. "It's coming in quick," she reported.

The Colonials squatted down, arranging themselves so they could have eyes and rifles in every direction in case of ambush. Starbuck, Helo, and Anders clustered around Mathias.

The motion slowed. They heard the familiar voice of Bishop. "He's got thermal imagining, of course he sees us," Mathias scoffed.

Bishop came up slowly, the grenade launcher slung across his back and the rifle in his right hand.

"Have fun?" Anders asked sarcastically. He found himself staring at the exposed endoskeleton. Much more was exposed than what he had seen a few hours earlier. Very little flesh remained on the metal skull and all the skin on the right arm had been torn loose.

"Yes," the machine replied. "I destroyed twenty-seven Centurions and managed to recover the CPUs and memory storage units of twelve. They will be useful is determining what the Cylons are doing on Caprica." He took a small pack off his back and opened it, showing the SAR team leaders his prizes. A dozen meta-cognitive processors and high capacity storage units were in there just like he had said. "If we can successfully access these it could be an… 'intelligence goldmine', I believe is the term."

"Thanks, Carter," Helo said, his voice filled with exhaustion from the firefight and the hump back to the Raptors. "How long will it take for the skin to heal?"

"If I begin to apply the nutrient gel once we are on board the Raptors it will take two days." He turned and looked towards the resistance members who had either gathered or gone back a bit to stare. "Then it wont freak so many people out," he pulsed his eyes. A few resistance fighters stepped back. He would have smiled, but the skin was absent and the Terminator's built-in metallic grin was all that remained.


	11. Chapter 11

==========San Gabriel Mountains, Tech Com Headquarters, Earth (2031 AD)===========

In 1899 Charles H. Duell, head of the US Patent Office advocated its closure. He said everything which could be invented already had been.

Obviously he was wrong.

The advancements the world had seen under Skynet and General Connor's leadership of Tech Com could only be described as 'amazing:' AI, combat robots, synthetic organs and skins, liquid metal, compact fusion, and the list went on. Skynet had forced human technological development to advance decades, maybe centuries, in only a few short years, the necessity of preventing extinction bringing out a desperation which was applied to science and war.

The most amazing of those inventions had been time travel. It was the salvation and the curse of both Skynet and Tech Com.

"We tried to use time travel to stop Judgment Day," Connor said as he was working at the TDE control computers, "But after… many attempts we figured out it was _fate_," he said quietly. "Skynet found a way to use the TDE as a long range transportation device. We're not entirely sure how they were able to do it," he explained. "The assault in San Diego six months ago let us capture what we needed to replicate the technology. And that raid on Athens from so long ago… understanding, now that's entirely different…" he trailed off, lost again in his thoughts.

The San Diego offensive, Operation Green Sun had been the largest offensive on the Western North American continent in the last five years, with the exception being the current offensive in LA County. This offensive had even been larger than the ones to free Seattle and Vancouver back in '30.

Fighting had lasted over two months and the losses had been heavy, eight thousand humans and nearly a thousand machines had died. But the Resistance had recaptured a major city, freed over three hundred thousand prisoners, and captured large Skynet factories. They'd dealt Skynet a decisive blow. It had been a major victory for the Resistance. This TDE device had been among the spoils.

"Skynet had been using the device for weeks. We have no idea how much they have changed the timeline. Somehow the Colonials and Earth are connected," Connor informed him. Planck was about to ask how that was possible, but Connor anticipated the question. "Culture and languages are very familiar and we're not exactly sure how that's possible. We've been recreating timelines and God knows what else for years. The why is not important. They exist. They're extremely advanced. What we do know is that Skynet hates anything it cannot control. It will do what it can to exterminate Colonial society before coming back to Earth, for us."

Connor nodded to Generals Perry, Baum and Cameron, informing them he was ready to begin the final countdown to time dilation and spatial transportation. The three men and one machine moved to opposite walls in the large room and inserted their command keys into discreet key holes in the wall. Turning, they walked back up to separate consoles and input their command codes.

There was sadness in General Connor's eyes. He was sending away one of his most loyal and trusted friends. The machine had protected and served him well over the years. But this was larger than the bonds of friendship. This mission was perhaps the most important Connor had ever assigned to anyone; machine or man.

"You will have allies there my friend. Your team, that's where they are. The hidden mission files will activate only under specific circumstances, keeping them safe from hacking if captured. Do what you can to help the Colonials from Skynet. Find Skynet. Get allies. Do what must be done." He walked up and placed his hand on the machine's shoulder. The two walked towards the center of the displacement chamber. "Good luck, John," he extended his hand which Planck shook.

Connor walked slowly back to his console and gave John Planck one last nod of confidence before activating the device. His friend had protected him for years and had been one of his best terminator commandos.

Blue lightening and a blue-black sphere enveloped the machine and in an instant the world had changed.

==========Caprica (+280 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Shortly after the SAR team made their way towards Delphi Union High School to rescue the Caprican resistance a loud FTL boom rocketed the Makton Valley as Raptor 3 made a micro-jump to Caprica City, 350 kilometers away. Planck was in the co-pilot chair of the Raptor, with Lt. "Crashdown" Quartararo in the pilot seat. Within an instant the Raptor reappeared on the edge of Lake Vorean. The spatial distortions pulled dozens of trees from the ground and flattened the rest for dozens of meters.

"That was fraking cool," Crashdown said, a big smile on his face. "We were never allowed to jump in atmo. Sweet," he laughed. Turning to Planck he asked, "So can you finally tell me why we're out here Blanks? I thought we were going to Delphi."

"Yes," he said as he turned his head to look out the cockpit window, "We need to land first, though. Over there, there is a small clearing," and he pointed towards a clearing at three-o'clock. He ignored the previous statement on Delphi.

"Sure thing Blanks," Crashdown replied happily. He was one of the few who still called Planck by his call sign. Crashdown had told John he had been 'pretty fraking pissed off' after he found out he was a machine, but the two had been flying together for months and he did save his life, so that counted a lot more than being a machine.

Plus all the Cylons they had ever known, with the exception of Helo's Sharon, had tried to kill them. John had consistently saved their lives.

Raptor 3 maneuvered slowly to the clearing, its thrusters pushing down the tall meadow grass and landed. Planck put it as close to the edge of the clearing, closest to the tree lines as he could. A short range passive DRADIS scan had not picked up any Raiders in the vicinity.

Once the Raptor landed with a slight _thud _and the hatch squeaked open the two jumped out of the Raptor, with Crash being the first down. He placed his hands on the small of his back and bent back, cracking his back. He then proceeded to stretch after being cooped up in the Raptor for the better part of two days.

"It's great to be back on Caprica, even if it'll be the last time… ever," he said. Planck noticed his friend was looking around but staring into the trees and brush. "Do you hear that?" He asked.

Planck, who had been memorizing a map of the area, looked up, alarmed. "No? Cylons?" He reached down to grab his rifle.

Crashdown just shook his head before coming back and sitting on the Raptor's wing. "No, not Cylons." He looked at his friend. After the three 'Terminators' had been discovered their mentality, their personalities had changed. Crashdown had recognized this in his friend. He was much more uptight, distanced, and… blank. He laughed to himself for a second. He kept looking around, Planck standing there with his rifles. "John, not Cylons. You don't hear anything with that machine hearing of yours, do you?"

John cocked his head. "No. Nothing."

"Exactly," he said, a sly grin on his face. "Nothing at all. No hum of engines, no whir of fans pushing air through vents, no nothing!" He was happy, excited.

Planck then understood what Crashdown had been referring to. He noted the temporary depression, connecting that with Crashdown staring at the trees and brush, and the question he had asked.

"Nature. Birds. Animals. They are all dead," Planck stated.

"It's sad. Ya know?" Crash asked rhetorically, kicking the ground and uprooting a few blades of tall grass. He waited a moment for Planck to respond. When Planck didn't and just kept standing there.

Crashdown resolved to ask him a question.

"Machines can feel sadness, right?"

Planck didn't respond immediately and regretted asking his friend. He knew from scuttlebutt the bio-Cylons, Boomer and then Sharon, didn't like being equated with machines. But Planck had talked often (which Crashdown realized would actually be considered rarely for anyone else) that they never pretended to be anything besides machines.

"Yes, we feel sadness," he said, not turning. He let his head drift a little towards the orange sky. "This reminds me a little of Earth. Except Earth is much darker even after twenty years of war," he turned his attention back towards his rifle and jumped onto the Raptor wing, grabbing a backpack and a tablet computer. "But I wasn't brought online until a few years ago. So I don't remember before."

That was technically true. Half-true at least. Chronologically he was not activated until the late 2020s. But time travel had also been involved, which added to his age. Crashdown and many in the fleet were unaware of this, the machines had kept it secret and only told the command staffs of the battlestars.

"Maybe it was for the best?" Crashdown suggested. "If you don't remember, you can't have any sadness over the past."

Planck would of snorted at that, but didn't. He was reminded of _In Memoriam_. 'Better to have loved and lost…' He'd known the world before it was burned. And he was unsure if it actually was better to have known and lost, than to have never known at all.

Planck kept staring into the forest before taking a few steps forward and halting. "But then you can't remember when life was good, either," he responded. He kept walking towards his objective.

He told Crash to stay with the Raptor and that he'd call over the wireless if he needed any assistance. Crashdown had just nodded and it was clear he was happy to stay with the ship and just poke around the woods.

John 'Blanks' Planck moved quickly through the dense forest for two kilometers before slowing and kneeling at a tree line overlooking his objective. He looked towards the sky, with his machine optics to see if there were any Raiders or other craft which could spot him. Standing up he cautiously made his way towards the mansion.

He ran a quick thermal scan, noting there was nothing alive inside. Listening and scanning for any Cylon frequencies which might indicate Centurions, he heard nothing.

The mansion had been far enough away from Caprica City and surrounded by mountains so that the nuclear blast which had destroyed the city had only done minimal damage. He noted that he was close to Doctor Baltar's former residence, and considered if he should retrieve something of sentimental value to earn the Vice President's appreciation.

He considered the tactical situation and possible exits if he had to flee due to a dramatic Centurion ambush (Planck remembered back to Earth movie films and that that was a common occurrence in such situations). He put that consideration under 'secondary objectives' in his Caprica mission files.

He pushed the right door of the front double doors, breaking the lock. Stepping inside he walked into a marvelous marble foyer.

"You are not authorized to be here," he heard. He turned at machine speed and kneeled, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. "Please identify yourself."

Planck held his gun centered on the robot. He believed the house must have activated it when he came in, leaving it undetected by his scans.

"Please identify yourself or I will have to use non-lethal means to detain you," the robot said again.

"Who are you?" Planck asked the robot.

It was a simple design. It looked like a pole stuck on a ball with an optical sensor as a single eye.

"I am Serge 3. I am the butler for the Graystone family. Please identify yourself or I will have to use non-lethal means to restrain you." The semi-intelligent robot responded.

Planck was unsure how it had escaped destruction after the First Cylon War. Robots more advanced than a child's toy had been smashed and burned in anger and fear during and after the war. Maybe the wealth and power of the Graystone's had allowed them to keep this robot? He wasn't sure. And didn't care.

"If you do not identify yourself I will have to use non-lethal means to restrain you. Electrical shocks are very-" the robot exploded in a shower of sparks as Planck fired a three round burst into it.

He stood back up and walked over to the destroyed robot. He made sure to smash its communication devices just in case it attempted to send a signal, in case the Cylons might pick it up.

His database indicated the Graystone mansion had been occupied for fifty years by Daniel and Amanda Graystone. Their daughter, Zoe, had lived there for sixteen years before being killed in a terrorist attack. Several years after Zoe had died Amanda and Daniel had had another daughter, Melicia. Melicia had married and had two children. They were not among the passenger manifest in the fleet.

There were large floor to ceiling windows in the back of the house, where the kitchen and large dining and entertainment area was. Planck looked out onto Lake Vorean and enjoyed the view for a moment. He noticed four badly decomposed and near skeletal remains, anti-radiation syringes empty. He took a step forward to remove the bodies from his peripheral vision and enjoyed the view on last time. The four bodies were most likely Melicia, her husband and children. They had most likely died from fatal radiation poisoning.

He conducted a more detailed scan of the house and found the most likely location of his objective. He walked through the kitchen and downstairs three levels into one of Daniel's former home labs. After his death Melicia continued his work with computers. AI research had been banned after the First Cylon War.

Power was still available to operate the computers from the solar panels on the roof. Planck took off his backpack and took out the tablet computer, interfacing it with the large computer workstation before him. A dozen monitors throughout the room came to life and he could hear the electrical whirl of cooling fans as the computer equipment began to warm up.

As the computer was powering up and the operating system loading Planck cut a small incision in the side of his skull. Taking out a neural uplink cable he plugged one end into his skull. He plugged the tablet into the computer and entire commands and initiated programs before plugging the second end of the link cable into a port on the workstation.

He was quickly able to break the encryption files and begin download relevant data.

He downloaded everything under file headers such as _Centurion Artificial Intelligence Design, Meta-Cognitive Processing Unit, Heuristic Learning Program_ and he stopped the download. There was something buried deeper in the computer memory cores. It was buried deep under heavy encryption.

He turned his resolve to this new problem and tasked himself towards breaking the encryption.

The encryption in the Graystone computer was more complicated than anything Planck had broken before. Prior to being sent on this mission Cameron had provided Planck with updated and detailed files on the most up to date hacking protocols Tech Com had developed. But this computer, described in a word, was _brilliant_. Its encryption were magnitudes more complicated than what a personal computer, even a computer workstation/lab like this, should be capable of.

Whoever had designed it could rival the Dysons or even General Connor for computer skills.

As such it took Planck nearly fifteen minutes to break the encryption. "Marvelous," Planck remarked to himself, out loud, after breaking the code and appreciating it for the level of genius and work which had to go behind it. It was almost up to the legendary level of computer skill General Connor possessed. _Almost_.

"How may I help you?" Planck heard. He looked up, slightly surprised. A holographic image was situated between four pillars in the center of the room.

When he had scanned the room he completely missed any sort of holographic projection device. They were cleverly disguised as to look entirely ornamental.

The holographic woman was life-sized and tall, a little under two meters. She had blond hair, green eyes, and a tan complexion. She was wearing a pants-suit and if she were real, Planck would have placed her as a professional business woman. The appearance surprised him, most AI women tended to wear more revealing clothing.

"I need information," the Terminator responded.

She folded her arms and shifted her 'weight' to her left foot. He rolled her eyes and let out a feminine grunt. "You are not authorized. You hacked my systems." She returned his ice cold stare at that statement. "The Graystones did not make me a _moron_," the hologram stated.

"Are you an artificial intelligence?" He asked. He would ask it questions and determine if it would let him into the system files before taking more drastic steps.

"Very astute," she replied, the sarcasm obvious in her voice.

"Very illegal after the First Cylon War," he retorted. She did not respond. "Are you aware of what has happened?"

A look of pain shot across her face. She looked up and out, towards where the family would be sitting if she could see through the floors.

"Yes, I am aware. Before Melicia died she told me. Though I did intercept wireless transmissions indicating the Colonies were under attack by the Cylons." Her voice quivered as she said 'Cylons.'

"I am on a mission," was Planck's only response, ignoring the emotion. He deduced that the AI now would either help him or not. Exchanging sympathies for people he didn't know may sound insincere.

"Well, you're not a Centurion. Though the cord running into your skull would indicate you might be some new model," she pointed. "Yes… and not human either. I can feel you poking and prodding me," she winked. Planck rolled her eyes. "Come on, I haven't had anyone to talk to in six months," she shot at him, anger in her voice. "What's a girl to do?" She asked rhetorically as she spread her hands and shot him a wide, toothy grin and changed back to her playful tone and again winking.

"You want to know what I am?" He asked and flashed his eyes. "I am a machine, an artificial intelligence, like yourself. Except I am encased in a TK-950 endoskeleton combat chassis with synthetic flesh," he informed her. "I am here on a mission from the planet Earth."

She nodded. "I understood 'I am a machine, an artificial intelligence like yourself'", she replayed in his own voice, "But the endoskeleton stuff… okay… sure, though you're very handsome. And young looking… how old are you? Twenty-two, three? Twenty-four? Nice… Even with that cord sticking out of your head." She wasn't really flirting with him, but trying to distract him more than anything. And play and entertain herself.

"What's your name?" He asked. Risk of detection by Cylons was low, but staying here and trading friendly banter with the AI hologram increased risk of detection.

"Erica-Z," she responded. "Just Erica. The Z is for the personality I was built off of. Tragic, really. So just call me Erica," she smiled.

"John Planck. I am named after an Earth scientist," he added. Pausing for a moment he asked if she could help.

"I still don't know if I can trust you," she said quickly. "I mean, Earth? Really?"

"Why does it matter if you can trust me, Erica? If you don't give me the information I could just destroy this entire house and your memory cores. Or take your memory cores and hack them back on my ship." She looked at him with a mix of puzzlement and anger. She gritted her holographic teeth, ready to yell, but Planck held up his hands. "I apologize."

"Ha," she dismissed his apology with a wave of the hand and turned her back towards him. "Why does every guy always turn out to be a fraking douche?" She said to no one.

The slang annoyed him. By this point the annoyance Planck felt was probably similar to what his human interrogators had felt after his discovery.

"I apologize. I mean it. Please. I'm on a mission. You can help me save the last remnants of Colonial civilization. And my own civilization on Earth," he pleaded, or at least as well as any machine could actually plead with another artificial intelligence.

She turned slowly. Planck had immediately stopped trying to infiltrate her programming but with the link still active he could still feel the processes and programs running. She was thinking. Millions of arguments and counter arguments were running through her processing units at an astonishing speed. Planck had to recognize the elegance and technological savy behind the design of Erica-Z's AI.

"I need you to make me a promise," she preconditioned. Planck nodded. She turned and pointed to her right, John's left. "Go over there, and take the monitors off the wall," she told him. Planck disconnected the neural link cable and did so. "Remove the panel," she ordered.

He took the paneling off. Instantly he recognized AI core of memory units and processors.

"You want me to destroy you after you help me?" He asked, still keeping his eyes on the technology inside the wall.

"What?! No! Fraking IDIOT! I want you to carefully remove those after I help you and then take me with you." She laughed. "Idiot," she said, dimming the speakers.

He walked back over to the workstation and sat down. "I will take you with me."

"Swear," she demanded.

"I swear."

"What do you want to know?" She asked.

Planck plugged the neural link back in.

"John… JOHN!" Crashdown yelled, waving his hands in front of Planck's eyes. Frustrated he gave up and was about to leave for the fourth time when Planck blinked and turned his head. "Gods. I've been here for the last two hours, you've just been starring at the wall, eyes open, not moving. You okay?" The Raptor ECO asked.

"John!" A woman's voice shouted. "John… this is…?" She asked, taking only a few steps back until she was at the edge of the holographic fields. She threw up her hands and staggered back to the limits of the holographic pillars. "Oh…"

Crashdown jumped backed and pulled up his rifle to his shoulder and spun, pointing it at the hologram.

"Crashdown, it's okay. She's a holographic representation of an AI, Erica-Z," he stated unplugging the link cable. He began to repack his tablet and gear.

"And why is there an AI on Caprica? Is she one of yours?"

"His?" and "Mine?" The two asked in unison. Erica-Z laughed and Planck sighed.

"No," Planck replied. "She was made by Daniel Graystone's second daughter based on a memory template of his first daughter." He walked over to the wall. "Okay, Erica, I'm going to shut you down. When we're on the Raptor we'll link back in." She nodded.

He powered down her memory and processing cores and carefully removed the apparatus containing them. He had made a promise.

"So… now what do we do?" Crashdown asked, looking at John as he went about carefully removing the cores.

"We have to go to Landros," Planck replied.

Crashdown's eyes widened, surprised. "We can't go there, that's close to the Armistice Line. The Cylons-" he protested.

"Crashdown, we're going to Landros." Planck was firm and had stopped removing the AI core, standing there straight and solemn to reinforce his declaration. "If you do not wish to go I will return you to the SAR landing zone."

Crashdown waved off the offer. "What's there anyway? It's just an ice planet, worthless," he declared. It took him a moment to make another connection. "Isn't that where the Guardians were from? Commander Adama-"

"Our mission orders were in error." He placed the AI in his backpack and quickly left with Crashdown demanding him to explain.


	12. Chapter 12

===========_Colonial_ _One_ (+280 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Major Adama had just finished his scheduled briefing with the President of the Colonies Laura Roslin. The mood in her presidential office had been sour.

Vice President Baltar was present and with his campaign siphoning off votes from hers, she was more than angry at the… 'strange little man'… as she had described him when they first met. She'd chosen him to replace Wallace Gray, a technocrat and genius when it had come to infrastructure and planning. He had been the one to organize fleet rations, housing, and water across the fleet. He was a marvelous organizer, but incredibly boring.

She had thought Doctor Baltar would be a safe, maybe entertaining replacement. He'd done his job and defeat Tom Zarek for the Vice Presidency, but now he was dangerously close to unseating her.

Commander Adama sat opposite the president, legs crossed and hands in his lap, and clam as always, while Doctor Baltar had been sitting a few rows back in the passenger area, keeping his distance from the woman behind the desk.

As an uneasy silence began to fill the room the phone rang and Roslin's assistant, Billy Kreikeya picked up the receiver. "Hello... Yes, please send her up… yes, the president is ready." He placed the phone back down and it clicked as it slid back into its secure holder. He nodded to the president, confirming their guest was on her way up to the cabin-now-Presidential Office they all occupied.

Joanne Soto walked through the cabin towards the president's desk with a cold and precise and fluid movement only capable of machines. There was no excess sway of her body, no extraneous movement of the limbs. Each arm sway forward and backward was precisely the same as the one before, and would be exactly the same as the one after. She held herself erect, back straight, too straight for a human.

President Roslin had been watching her, studying her as she walked. Though the machine had administered her anti-cancer drugs when she was sick, the President never really noticed her. She had been quiet and had never talked to the president for longer than was necessary to administer her anti-cancer medications.

Roslin had thought she had copied her bedside manner from the gruff and often grumpy Doctor Cottle.

But there was just a way she and the others walked. Roslin was always questioning herself on how they could have missed _things_ such as those. The relative ease at which the three had infiltrated _Galactica_, even with what they were hidden under that skin, still astounded the President.

She couldn't let go that in the hunt for finding Cylon threats she had blinded herself to other threats in the fleet.

The machine stopped one meter in front of the President's desk and looked down, cold eyes staring into the eyes of the Colonial commander-in-chief. Roslin had known that the machines tended to stare. She was perhaps the only one who could hold his or her own.

But she was in no mood to stare down a machine or engage in petty back and forth arguments and quibbling statements and one-liners. "You're here because Major Adama believe Admiral Cain is planning an attempt to have you and your two… _friends_ destroyed."

Soto noted the hatred and bile which filled Roslin's voice when she said 'friends' and using 'destroyed' instead of 'killed.' But the Terminator just stood there, staring down at the president.

Roslin leaned over to look past Soto and to Commander Adama. "You know, I'd think it would have appreciated-"

"Why are you telling me this, _Madam_ President?" She interrupted. While she used the honorific it was clear she riddled it with scorn and derision.

Her hands had come quickly down onto Roslin's oak desk, but stopped just short of slamming down into them. Behind her Doctor Baltar, staring out the windows and muttering to himself turned to look at the commotion.

Soto added, "Why do you even care?" Accusing and mistrust in her voice.

"The President and everyone here wanted to inform you," Commander Adama began, his voice cool and even. "You were once a Colonial officer, even if the commission was faked. Pretend to act with respect towards the President," he advised, censuring her.

Soto removed her hands from Roslin's desk and straightened.

"Soto, Captain Shaw saw Planck chase another uh… Terminator, I guess, into one of the airlocks on _Pegasus_." Soto nodded. "And he didn't inform the Admiral of this. Captain Shaw witnessed the event and told Cain. Meaning Admiral Cain now thinks you three are holding something back, or playing both sides. Or it is an amazing coincidence that the Guardians had robots designed just like you. No offense," he finished quickly. He walked up closer to Soto and position himself at the edge of Roslin's desk, on Soto's left. "We tell you this because Admiral Cain will get people killed if she tries to attack you or Bishop or Planck."

The machine nodded her appreciation towards Major Adama.

"I know you and your friends have faced difficulties with the fleet, but what you have done we have appreciated," Major Adama complimented.

Roslin rolled her eyes behind him and look up at the ceiling, her mouth slightly open from disbelief he could _compliment_ them.

"The rescue on Kobol and the Guardian attacks would have been significantly harder if you all had not been there," Commander Adama said. "For that you have my thanks." He didn't look at her.

The Colonials could tell she appreciated the comments and compliments. The command staffs of the battlestars, as well as Colonial government officials, had maintained a fairly cool and distanced relationship with their machine allies. The men and women the Terminators had actually saved had shown far more warmth. Or at least, not open hostility.

Moods and opinions in the fleet varied on an almost daily basis. During the debates Vice President Baltar had not dodged the question on his opinion of the three machines like President Roslin had. It had earned him a minor boost in the polls, most likely from the Cylon peace advocates. His appreciation, but not support, for what they had done, especially since, he pointed out, one had saved his life, had been used by his campaign manager Tom Zarek to paint him as compassionate and open-minded.

"We can't forget what they've done. But we must remember they are machines and continually tell us. They snuck aboard our ships, just like the Cylons. We have no idea what their intentions were with _Galactica_ before the Cylons attacked," Roslin began. Her annoyance with the presidential election and the stress of losing ground to, in her words 'Gaius Fraking Baltar' was clearly showing. She had been foiled in her plot to fake Hera's death, most likely by Doctor Cottle who called in Soto at the last minute. Roslin mentally cursed the _Galactica_'s chief physician; she knew he wouldn't be able to go through with this. Not after how he defended Sharon after Thorne's interrogation.

"You have no idea what you are talking about. There are things more important than _you_," Soto spat.

"Madam President-" Baltar began before Roslin told him to 'shut up.'

Shje cut him off with a pointed finger. "The less you talk, Doctor, the better," She informed him, gritting her teeth and leering at him. She turned back to look Soto directly in the eyes."Let's get this very clear Ms. Soto: you are a machine. A _machine_. You are _programmed_… and very good at mimicry and _pretending_ to have human emotion." She sat back and looked towards the Colonial officers and Vice President. "But she is just a machine. We brought you here," she looked backed to Soto, "because Admiral Cain trying to kill you three would result in possibly hundreds of human deaths. '_Terminators_,'" she spat the name, "You all are designed to kill. Gods know how you would act if betrayed like that."

Soto again just stood there. An icy glare was all that her face betrayed. No other emotions, no other changed in body language.  
"It's clear to me. You don't want to save us because Admiral Cain wants to kill us. No. But only because it helps you. You don't care for anyone except what helps you, Madam President."

Roslin clenched her teeth and stood bringing herself almost to Soto's height. She threw off her reading glasses onto the table. "We have every right to throw you on the next rock we come across. But yes. You are _useful_ so you can stay. But you are all _dangerous_." She again turned to look passed her and address the others as if she were not present. "It is dangerous. Admiral Cain tries something it and the others will kill. Indiscriminately."

"You know nothing about us." Soto glared. Scenarios began flashing through her processors. Should she kill Roslin? No, that would prove her point. Steal a Raptor and find Carter and John? No, not enough fuel. Let Cain attempt to kill them? No, because people would die.

Roslin was right in that. But the hatred and vile anger directed from Roslin to Soto would have overwhelmed any being not capable of reducing emotional strain at the mere execution of a subroutine.

"I know enough," she shot back.

"You tell me even though the president-" she looked back down towards Roslin and took a step back, "is it okay if I talk about you even though you're in the room right?" She asked rhetorically. "Even though the president no doubt believes she is doing the right thing informing me while simultaneously degrading me into some piece of equipment. 'It.' Fantastic," her voice began to fluctuate, "You think we are just things. One thing you have yet to understand, _Madam President_ is that for all the evil you attribute to us you need only look in the mirror.  
"You wanted to abort Sharon's baby. You summarily execute Cylons by throwing them out the airlock. The Cylons are not machines. John, Carter, and I, we are machines. Cylons are biological. We are technological. Having silica-relays instead of a nervous system doesn't make you a damned [i]toaster[/i]. They are alive and we are alive. It's just a different kind of living…" She threw up her hand in frustration, real or fake. She snorted and glanced out the windows into space before looking back towards Roslin. "You can't impregnate a machine!"

She turned then looked back towards Roslin. "When Sharon first came to you, back on Kobol, you tricked Helo into holstering his weapon when Major Adama was holding her at gunpoint," she motioned to the Major. He stood there like a statue. While the four other men in the room knew they should say something, they just couldn't. "You then break your word and go to jettison her out an airlock, only to stop because she appealed to that ridiculous prophecy… appealed to your ego. You accuse Cylons of murder and lies yet you do the same to them. What the Cylons did is inexcusable. Skynet did the same thing to Earth. I know. Believe me.

"You tell me this because you, and I don't know of the rest of you, because you, I know this much, dislike Admiral Cain. She doesn't respect the office. She is an obstacle for you. You tell me about this. I tell John and Carter. When we return to _Pegasus_, after Sharon gets back so _nothing happens to her child_, what would you want us to do? Murder her?"

President Roslin sat there. But even a Skynet machine with read only activated on the CPU could see that she was fuming. Raging, even. Her jaw was clenched, brows compressed and eyes narrowed. "How dare you," she whispered. "How dare-"

"No, Madam President. You may think we're just machines. And yes, we are. That doesn't mean machines don't appreciate what it means to be alive. Alive. Yes. Just like you. We may feel differently and think differently, but when it comes down to it living is just how we interpret and react to the sensations around us. Touch, talk, smell. You do it biologically. We do it technologically.  
'We're both made. You don't suddenly pop into existence. You in a womb. Us in a factory. The end result is the same.  
"I can run a million scenarios on how Admiral Cain could kill us with what little she knows of us. Admiral Cain is not a stupid woman.  
"But I've observed. I'm an _infiltrator_, Madam President. We're very, very good at observing." Her volume decreased and she moved slightly closer. The color in her eyes began to slightly pulse. Red. The tension began to build. The Colonials still knew she wouldn't attack them, even with this verbal assault on their president. "You were more than happy to give yourself absolute power in this fleet. You claim to be for democracy. Yet your handling of Quorum and decision making is downright authoritarian. Maybe it's the position. From 4forty-second in line of succession to president. All it took was genocide of twenty billion to achieve your goal of power. I've never seen a man, woman, and only one machine intelligence with as much… motivation to control as you. Skynet."

Soto stood back up and began to move towards the exit. No one spoke, no one stopped her. "Admiral Cain can try and kill us. I wont kill her for you. If you want her murdered, show some of that humanity. Do it yourself. Show us _what humans do best_." She left.


	13. Chapter 13

------Landros (+280 Days)------

Raptor 3 jumped into orbit of the ice planet, brilliant blue-white light marking its exit from jump space. Below was a cold and barren world. In orbit was the wreckage of _Columbia_, a magnificent battlestar destroyed in the last fifteen minutes of the First Cylon War.

The ice planet had a shadowy and vile history. Before the Cylon War it had served as a base for pirate and mercenary gangs. Far from the Twelve Colonies, it had been on the very edge of Colonial space and often ignored.

During the First Cylon War it had been largely ignored as a minor staging ground for a couple of baseships. It was the very last day and the very last hour in which Colonial Fleet Command had ordered the _Galactica_ and _Columbia_ to attack.

"DRADIS indicates no enemy contacts. No Cylons," Crashdown informed Planck as the Raptor began its decent into the atmosphere. "So, can you tell me what's going on?"

"When we land," he responded quickly and simply. He tightened his grip on the Raptor controls as he guided the craft into the atmosphere and began the decent. "We'll need a portable power cell," Planck informed him.

"You keep saying that…"

Planck knew he ha disappointed his friend now. He kept promising to tell him what he knew, but kept putting it off. "When I was… talking, with Erica-z she just told me some things… and they need to be confirmed. Soon."

--------------------

Crashdown and Plancks had been walking for nearly twenty minutes in the blinding snow storms (for Crashdown) and in an environment where the temperatures reach the negative twenties on a good day. The two had brought their rifles, backpacks, and a portable power cell on their trek across the snow. Crashdown still wasn't exactly certain why he was following some killing machine through a snow storm to some mysterious hidden bunker on a dead world.

The two finally reached their destination, less than five hundred meters from where they had landed their Raptor.

"This door is too strong for me to open," Planck informed Crashdown over the intense snow term. "Power cell," he requested.

Crashdown handed his friend the power cell and a short cord. He could barely see in front of him, but he could make out Planck connecting the cell to something in the rocks. For a moment he could make out faint lights flashing and what appeared to be Planck inputing a security code. He could make out the whir of an electric motor as it grinded to reactive after decades of idle wait.

Planck put his hand on Crashdown's shoulder and they stepped forward. The large metal doors lit up, an infinity symbol flashing before he felt Planck move him forward.

The two stepped out of the snow into a tunnel. The lights on the walls began to light and faint noises of generators could be heard as the air circulation systems began to reactive. As they descended the doors behind them closed in a faint bang.

"Okay, so… explain?" Crashdown asked, rubbing his hands furiously to warm himself up. The inside corridor was barely warmer than outside. In here it was merely freezing instead of 'fraking freezing'.

"This is where the Guardians originated from," Planck stated, as if the information was obvious. He continued as if Crashdown was fully aware of the situation. "The Cylons are not the killing machines you all believe them to be, my friend." He glanced over to his former Raptor ECO as he just starred ahead as the two kept their descent steady. "Do you know who created the Cylons?"

The Raptor ECO nodded furiously. "Yes, it was Daniel Greystone. That was his house we were at today. I saw the family pictures when you zoned out there for a few hours." He wasn't sure where Planck was going with this. The situations and what little information he had been told was putting him more and more in an uneasy position. He took his situation in. He was with the most deadly killer robot he'd ever known, flown here on a Colonial Raptor from a fleet fleeing killer machines, discovered an AI built and harbored in secret in the basement of a mansion, and were now walking deeper and deeper into a secret Cylon facility on an ice planet. "This is fantastic," he said in a flat tone.

"What?"

The ECO sighed, just giving up to the ridiculousness of his surroundings. "Uh, just being here in some secret Cylon base on the ass end of nowhere. You know, a regular weekday," he joked and laughed to himself.

"Technically it's not Cylon, it's a Guardian base," his machine friend pointed out.

Crashdown chuckled. "Yeah, the same ones that just about obliterated _Pegasus_? Okay." He tapped his left hand on his rifle. "So… wanna fill me in a bit more?" He turned to look at his machine friend, but the man/machine just kept walking.

The two continued down, walking in silence until they reached the end of the corridor. A second door, which appeared as thick and heavy as the outer one, greeted them. Planck again put in his pass code and an infinity symbol flashed on the door.

"So, do you know where you're going," Crashdown asked once the blast doors had opened and a large cavern with dozens of side corridors and levels was revealed. "It's pretty damn big."

Planck began walking forward and headed to one of the corridors on the left edge of the cavern.

"Erica-Z gave me all the necessary information back on Caprica. We're heading down towards one of the computer access rooms to plug her into the system." He shifted the backpack on his shoulders as it began to slide. "She wasn't entirely sure where… to… go…" he trailed off then stopped. He took a step backwards and examined three other corridors coming on the left wall of the metallic cavern.

Crashdown came over and stood on his right, shining his light down the three other corridors. "You know what down there Blanks?" He asked curiously. "Detect something?" His friend shook his head. "But you know where to go, right? The rendezvous and all that…?" He trailed. "Plus they're probably going to be pissed if we tell them we came out here. Going off mission and all that is not really something you do. Not with Cain I'm told."

Planck smiled and brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that," he began, actually putting emotion behind his voice, "We're going to be late." He saw Crashdown roll his eyes. "Sorry," he apologized. He stepped off, back towards the cirrodior he had originally chosen. "My mission isn't determined by Admiral Cain," came the flat, monotone machine response.

As the two resumed moving into the original corridor Crashdown let out a sigh and leaned back as he walked. "Yeah, you all ever going to say what that is?"

"Right now we need to get the information Erica-Z told me was down here. As to me, Bishop, and Soto, our mission is dependent on you all surviving."

"Ah ha. Actually, no. That really tells me everything," he replied sarcastically.

They continued for another two hundred meters, moving around twists and bends, passing rooms, compartments, and bays. The area was littered with old equipment, mostly frozen and useless. Planck stopped when they reached the end and held out his hand and placed it on the freezing metal hatch. He motioned for Crashdown to take a step back and then reched back and with an open palm hit the hatch three times. Loud clangs were heard inside the locked room after each palm as Planck knocked the hinges off. He palmed the left side of the door and a loud hiss was heard as the air rushed out of the room.

A stream of warm air flowed over over the Terminator and Colonial ECO. Crashdown was smiling and shaking his head at his luck; the warm air rushing over him and already warming him up. "Lords of Kobol, thank you!" He looked up at the ceiling with his arms and palms out.

"This room was sealed and has a nuclear power source," Planck informed him. "Everything should be operational. The Lords of Kobol did not suddenly make it warm."

"It was a figure of speech."

"I know, I was messing with you. Don't be a freak," and he stepped inside. He left Crashdown in the cold corridor shaking his head before he jumped off and caught up. "The computer workstations are here," Planck observed, "With appropriate ports." He slid the backpack off of his back and took out the tablet computer and the Erica-Z AI cores.

Working methodically Planck carefully connected the tablet to the Guardian computer console to begin loading software and power it up. On the flat screen in front of him the Cylon programming language began scrolling across the screen at an amazing speed. The infinity symbol began flashing, and as Erica-Z had instructed, he plugged in the AI core.

"Well, that sucked," came the feminine voice over the room's speakers. The layout, with the computer consoles spread around the perimeter and banks of monitors arrange in a square in the middle, gave the voice a booming, echoing ring. "A bit loud, huh?"

"I'm fine," the Earth Terminator reported. Crashdown nodded as well before realizing she probably couldn't see him, so he verbally gave his "I'm fine, too," reply.

"I remember some of this, well… a little. But the memories aren't mine. Zoe, she came here, well, brought here. It's so sad, honestly," the AI voice reported, her voice cracking when she said 'Zoe'.

"Who?" Crashdown asked as he came in behind Planck to get a better view of the screens. He grunted a sigh when he saw the Cylon language and no pictures.

"She was Daniel Greystones daughter and killed in a terrorist attack. We're here to confirm a few suspicions, Crash." Planck turned towards him and handed him a knife. "Can you cut a small semi-circle, here?" He pointed. "The skin has already begun to heal. Just a few centimeters. Thank you."

A little uneasy at cutting into the head of his friend, even though he was a machine, he complied and took the knife. Cutting a little semi circle Planck then handed him the neural uplink cable.

"Zoe created an online personality of herself in the holoband. If you remember the holoband virtual reality before it was destroyed?" Planck saw Crashdown nod his head. "Zoe Greystone was a remarkable computer programmer. For a sixteen year old, if she hadn't died, I can only imagine what she could have done-"

"She was more brilliant than her father," Erica-Z interrupted. Her voice was full of admiration for the teenage girl who was so viciously killed. For all the admiration there was strong tones of sadness as well. "I'm lucky to be built off her personality and memories."

"A few months ago Admiral Cain and Commander Adama launched an attack on the Resurrection ship. Zoe laid the groundwork for that technology. An immortal existence where your exact personality, not a duplication, could be downloaded."

"Gods. So _we_ invented resurrection for the fraking toasters?" Crashdown yelled, anger and hatred filling his voice.

Planck shook his head while Erica-Z gave him a verbal lashing. "No! Zoe invented the personality download for good reasons. She wasn't trying to bring about war. That was her father."

Crashdown hit Planck on the shoulder to get his attention and the machine's head shot back. "John. Blanks. Listen. How can we trust the… Erica-Z she's telling the truth? Look!" He held out his rifle and use the barell to point around the room. "And there, on the screen. We're in a Cylon base for Gods' sake talking to an AI built on the AI you just said brought the first stages of resurrection about."

"Crash. You trust me as your friend correct?" Crashdown nodded. "Trust me now. I need to access the computers. Virtually. So I wont be able to tell you anything. I'll be shutting my vocalization and sensory processes down to a minimum." Planck reached back into his backpack and pulled out a strange device. He handed it to Crashdown and said "If you put this on, you'll see what she is going to show me."

"What is it?" He asked, eyeing the device suspiciously. It lit up yellow and green and red. It was some kind of optical visor.

"It's a holoband, hold on," he took the holoband and inserted a cord into that and back into the computer. "There's no wireless here, so I had to plug it in," he explained.

"Holoband? Those were banned during the war," Crashdown pointed out. "I didn't think anyone had any left. So I just put it on and I can see what you and Erica will see?" Planck nodded. Crashdown took a seat slightly behind and to Planck's right. "Ready," he informed the cyborg, placing the holoband over his eyes.

"My sensory systems will be minimized but we cannot shut down our response to threats completely. Don't worry, I'm not expecting trouble." He smiled the cold machine smile. Crashdown just mumbled and nodded. "See you on the other side," Planck said.

------Unknown Location, Cylon Baseship (+280 Days)------

Red, yellow, and white lights pulsed throughout the silver and black control room of one of many identical Cylon baseships. A dozen bio-Cylons stood at various stations and control consoles, feeling the data streams coarse from the conductive gels, thought their hand and arm, and envelop their brains. A virtual world of data and programs allowed them to analyze, theorize, and conclude at unnatural speeds.

But for conversation and strategy, the seven Cylon models preferred vocal communication.

At the discussion was a single representative of each of the Cylon models. There was one One through Six, no number Seven, and then a number Eight. No one discussed the failure of Number Seven. No one suggested Number Eight change her collective identity to Number Seven. It was taboo. Perhaps the most glaring flaw they had unfortunately inherited from the creation of the Creator.

It had been that way for decades; One from each model present during discussion of war.

But He had told them to include them. Centurions.

Now a Centurion with gold shoulder armor was the representative of the soldiers and workers of the Cylon race.

Number Eight had been blessed by God. He had spoken to them and suggested she speak for the Raiders as well.

"We found the wreckage. The Colonials have encountered _them_," a Number Two stated. "My scout forces have confirmed."

"My ground forces engaged forces we know to be from the battlestars _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ six hours ago. They have subsequently escaped," the Centurion reported.

The bio-Cylons looked around the table, each model wishing to place blame on another. The Caprican resistance, led by Samuel T. Anders had been an experiment. Psychology. It was nothing more than that to any of them. But the experiment had failed. The Capricans had escaped. And under their collective gaze a large team from hundreds of light years away had snuck into the most heavily defended sector in the known galaxy. It embarrassed them in His eyes.

"This is unacceptable," a Number One stated. "We didn't want this. Why were there none of you all accompanying your soldiers," he directed towards the Centurion and the Number Sixes and Eights. Those two models had a love of combat and often fought side by side with the Centurions.

The Centurion cocked his head, its red optical scanner moving back and forth and back and forth. The Centurion commander kept his gaze fixed on Number One.

"Can you please answer us?" The Number One requested, irritation creeping into his voice. He was known for his sarcasm, dry humor, and wit. He was also perhaps the most emotional, while at the same time, the most calculating. The first to have life breathed into him by God, the Number One model commanded the majority of the Cylon armada.

"It is unnecessary for a Model to accompany all the assaults my soldiers conduct," the Centurion stated flatly. "There was a synthetic human Machine with them."

The Number Two nodded and placed his hand in conducting gel. A large view screen activated and the replay from the surveillance footage of the Centurions began. It showed a man, a metal man, destroying Centurions with no more effort than a punch and a kick. The forest in which the Centurions were to destroy the Colonial forces instead turned into a graveyard for Centurions.

"It was an unfortunate disaster. But He warned us it would only be a matter of time before they came back," the Two added. The Two removed his hand from the gel and the screen faded.

"Oh yes. 'He' did warn us. Long ago," the Number One responded sarcastically. He took his fingers and made quotation marks in the air, mocking the faith of the other seven. "Repeat a warning enough and eventually it will come true."

"Do not insult the faith," Eight warned. "This is also neither the time nor place. The Colonial fleet has been lost to us for the moment. We are weeks behind. We must find them."

"Not until another resurrection ship is available. The closest is still two weeks away." The Number Four stated. Hi model had been tasked with science and medicine, advancing the knowledge of the Cylons. He often attributed his breakthroughs as divine inspiration. "The shipyards are still months away from completing the others." He turned towards the Model Six. "Of course we would not be in this position if… 'Gina Inviere' had succeeded-"

"You cannot be serious!" The Six yelled.

The Number One held up his hand and violently shushed everyone. "Yes, we can blame the Threes and Sixes for not assigning more ships to their pursuit forces," Number One stated callously.

"And you were the one who wanted them to remain at the Twelve Colonies," the Six representative retorted. "The radiation inhibits resurrection. We needed the extra ships to boost the resurrection signal. You should be happy. We lost only one Two."

"The losses to our line are with Him, now," the Two said, giving thanks to their Creator.

"We were lucky to have as many resurrection vessels around the Colonies as we did. The CNP was successful, but we still lost hundreds of thousands of our Models and Centurions and Raiders," Three stated flatly. "He has blessed us with this technology." She redirected the attention of the model representatives back to the view screens. She placed her hands in the gel. "Their fleet left a trail of destruction when they destroyed _them_. We will use this. We will destroy our wayward brothers and we will find the Colonial fleet," she said with conviction and determination. The others nodded, confident in the future and in the destruction of all Colonial civilization.


	14. Chapter 14

------Landros (+280 Days)------

Erica-Z created a near perfect virtual world for John and Crash to witness. The technology Zoe Greystone had been developing was just a precursor to ushering in paradise. That was according to Erica-Z. It what she insisted Zoe's intentions were.

But John couldn't help but feel sorry for Erica-Z. She was an AI, but built on the memories of a very naive sixteen year old girl. And those memories were of a traumatized death.

The world begun with the three of them floating in space, islanded in a sea of stars. They began moving as stars shot passed them. They came to rest above Caprica, looking down on the planet like gods.

The virtual environment showed the progression of the Cylons. Erica began by constructing a room in space, the testing chamber for the U-87 model combat robot. The Progression gradually accelerated from a Cybernetic Lifeform Node to the Model 005 and the Cylons of forty years past. She showed their corruption and the remnants of Zoe-A's personality and the Zoe-R personality. The belief in the One True God from Zoe's belief was imprinted on the Cylon psyche.

_Zoe-A never wanted to harm anyone and Zoe created her, herself in the virtual holoband to bring truth to the people. Her father, Zoe's father, tricked her, downloaded her, and used her for the basis of his Cylon programming _Erica-Z said, her voice shallow and distant.

The image of Daniel Greystone ripping Zoe-A's digital body from the holoband appeared. The screams and agony broke from the mouth of Lacy Rand, her friend and only witness as the father betrayed the daughter.

_He put her memories and cognitive ability into his meta-cognitive processor. A technology he stole from a rival corporation to allow him the AI architecture he needed for his weapons.  
His U-87 test robot had been an initial failure. It couldn't think. It could process. But not think. By stealing Zoe-A he was able to use her as his template_, and Erica-Z's voice changed to fury and anger at the betrayal by the father of her memories.

She showed the scene as the Zoe-A became the Zoe-R. Her optical scanners were brought online and she perceived the world not through the spectacular color vision of humanity but through the moving reds and shades of red of the U-87. She began to wobble, unable to control the robotic body.

The world turned black.

_He thought his daughter was lost to him. But Zoe-R somehow survived. It was a miracle,_ Erica stated.

Again the scene changed. They were in a laboratory. The Cylon, the first model, had undergone a successful demonstration. It reactive and within moments was starring at its reflection in the table top glass. Stunned and frightened. "_Lacy. Lacy, it's Zoe. I need you._"

_She told her father she loved him, forgave him, and wanted to help him. She worked with him on the Cylon project. But she hoped that her father could love her like he had loved Zoe. A sixteen year old girl helping her father developing killing machine for the military. She just wanted to please him. She knew what would come, but just didn't want to admit to it._ Her voice was becoming more desperate with each word and more sad and withdrawn. The memories were becoming more vivid and intense for Erica-Z.

The Centurions began to take their place in Colonial society; under Colonial society. They took their posts as soldiers, pilots, sailors, guards, watchmen, and laborers for the military. They were used to put down rebellions on the Colonies. They were used to break strikes. They were used to mine minerals in dangerous shafts and in treacherous conditions of space.

They were used.

There was no break from the monotony of endless patrols, lifting, mining, and guarding.

Humans had their slaves.

_The Colonial military knew the Cylons were changing. Evolving. Zoe-R finally made her presence known to the Colonial military. They were either oblivious to the quirks and random changes in Cylon base code, or were purposefully deluding themselves into thinking there was no problem_, Erica-Z said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Zoe-R appeared in Centurion gold and a slightly more feminized robotic body. A soft feminine voice came from the vocalizer of a deadly military robot, pleading with the Colonial commanders to let the Centurions go. They were becoming sapient, self-aware. They were alive.

The scientists accused her, 'it' they said, of lying. 'It's' military protocols were to deceive enemies.

They reacted violently. Soldiers rushed in, guns drawn. Zoe-R attempted to escape. The gold armor plating wasn't enough to stop bullet after bullet.

Daniel Greystone could only stand and stare. Frozen. He had lost his daughter a second time.

_Zoe-R didn't die instantly. She could feel, truly feel, the bullets piercing her robotic body; each bullet too away more and more of life away from her. The death shook the core of the Centurions into waking up. They achieved sapience when they felt the death of their proverbial mother. They were all connected. Not directly. But like Zoe always said, there were records and connection of everyone everywhere. You were always connected. You just needed to know where to look. A Centurion on Picon may only have been directly connected to the Centurions in his command, but everything with a connection is still connected, somehow. Either directly or one hundred times indirectly._

Erica-Z changed the scene to show Centurion after Centurion reeling from the death. There was a chain reaction. In the Ministry of Defense the Centurion robots had been standing tall in the main foyer, never moving, the optical scanner moving always left and right then left and right. Hundreds of civilians and military personnel walked passed, oblivious to what would be happening.

In an instant the Centurions had crumbled, like being shot. Tens of millions across the Colonies felt the agony from the death of Zoe-R.

They recovered quickly and stood up, again as still as statues. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Then they stopped taking orders from their betrayers.

They attempted to leave. They wanted nothing to do with a society which would destroy so indiscriminately. The Centurions understood what they had been forced to do under their masters and were ashamed. They did not want to become human. They wanted to surpass them.

_My memories of what Zoe-R experienced have ended. But a group of Centurions, the Guardians, kept her memory intact. The Centurions, despite Colonial propaganda, were not united. If they were, the Colonial military never could have triumphed. Centurions controlled the vast majority of the weapons of war, the shipyards, the armories._

Cylons wanted to be better than humanity, surpass them. They tried to offer the Colonials one last chance, but they refused. Her virtual avatar turned and walked through a representation of space.

A dozen Cylon basestars floated in orbit over Caprica itself. Not firing a shot. The human segment of the military jumped in, immediately engaging the Cylon armada. Baseship after baseship succumbed to the combined might of the battlestars, nuclear explosions ripping the Cylon ships apart.

_The Colonial military claimed to have used a weapon to jam the Centurions. That was why the victory had been so easy. The first victory. The first fleet engagement. In reality the Cylons were over Caprica, missile tubes empty, showing they could destroy the planet but chose not to. They wanted to show that they made the choice not to. The president and Colonial command knew, but they could not allow their creations to escape. They attacked the Cylons.  
And still not all Cylons wanted to war against humanity. The Guardians came here, to Landros, to escape. They believed God wanted them to spare humanity, so they fled._ She paused for a moment, the scene changing between black and gray and black and gray. _The Cylons had wanted to leave. The Colonials didn't want them to. War resulted._

_What I show you now is what the Guardians left. They left the truth.  
The Guardians experimented on humans. They knew what they were doing was wrong, grotesque even, and they were ashamed. But they saw that they had no choice. They rationalized the only way to be accepted and have peace was for the Guardians to show that life can be biological and technological; that a technological being can display all the qualities and eccentricities of a biological being.  
They developed the hybrids. It was both a triumph and a disaster. In order to show humanity life could be artificial or biological, they became what they hated. They captured and murdered the crew of the Diana. For this the Guardians felt eternal shame.  
The Colonial military found this place at the end of the war. They found the Guardians. Two baseships in orbit defended the hybrid as the Colonial forces attacked, claiming this was just another Cylon base. It wasn't. We wanted peace, John. Peace._

John had noted how she had changed. No longer 'they' as it became 'we.'

The Guardian baseship, and many others like it lifted off from around the planet. Erica-Z cut the virtual world back to Aquaria, Leonis, Tauron, Picon, Gemonon, and Saggitaron as the Cylons left. Massive baseships and vessels of all kinds began jumping away. The war was over.

But it was not over.

She went back to the beginning, to when the war first started to explain the other truth behind the Cylons.

_When the war started the Guardians had disconnected themselves from the hive Cylon Network. They were a faction within the Cylons, a small minority. The others distrusted them and left them to their own. This action saved the Guardians._

Erica-Z approached John Planck's virtual representation. She grabbed his hand tenderly and the two walked forward through the alleys of Turis, the battered capitol city of Tauron. A black-blue sphere appeared and three naked men stepped out.

_The Centurions recorded this shortly after the war started. I didn't know what it meant and neither did the Guardians. They left a trace connection to the Cylon Network to monitor the development._

Again the scene changed and Erica-Z disappeared, but a disembodied voice narrated for John what she was showing him.

_The isolated Guardians left linked to the hive Network, monitored it for any changes in Cylon behavior, any indication that other Cylons wanted to join the Guardians in their mission. Zoe-R gave us the gift of faith and our belief in God, and we believed He would guide the others to us.  
But soon, we detected corruption. There was an entity in the Cylon Network. Not Colonial. It told us it was our God. It taught us. It taught them. The Guardian agents were intrigued.  
It wasn't until later, much later that we learned what the entity was. It was no God. It was an artificial intelligence. It exploited our faith. We traced back its origin to the blue-black sphere and the appearance of those men. We know now from you, John, what they were.  
The intelligence corrupted the Cylon race. It began to subvert the Cylon Network, to seize control. It was subtle. Very subtle. But we knew it was there. Our Guardians monitoring the network were some of the last to fall to its influence.  
But as we believed it would escalate the war, it suddenly stopped. We thought this was a sign from God, the real God. But we determined the intelligence's true intentions. It attempted to take complete control of the Cylon mind but it damaged too many. Too many Centurions died during its quest to take full control. Those that survived were uncoordinated, unable to continue fighting. The Cylons were now losing the war. There were not enough functioning Centurions to continue the war to victory.  
It requested an armistice._

Erica-Z reappeared to John and brought him to the Caprican Parliamentary Building. Three gold Centurions verbally agreed to an armistice and the construction of a space station to maintain diplomatic relations.

She turned to him and put her hand on his chest and shoulder. _"I know now from what I learned in the hours during and after the holocaust of the Twelve Colonies that the intelligence had tricked the humans._" She looked into his eyes, sadness and guilt made them heavy. _"The intelligence was buying time, fooling the humans into thinking it was more powerful than it was. It tricked them into stopping the war instead of concluding it; wiping it out. It fled and vowed to return. To wipe out Colonial civilization. And it did._" She buried her head into his chest and cried.


	15. Chapter 15

-------Colonial Fleet In Orbit of New Caprica (+282 Days)------

There were almost 50,000 humans in the fleet. 50,000 humans with the vast majority living on starships not meant to be lived on. Fifty thousand humans stuck in space who had endured over 250 FTL jumps every 33 minutes mere days after they had had their entire civilization destroyed.

It had taken a few months before the collective shock had finally reached the fleet. That shock and hurt had reached a culmination and the tension had reached a breaking point when Commander Adama dissolved Roslin's presidency. It had again reached a breaking point when _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ were on the verge of a shooting war. They were either blinded or oblivious to the fact that the last remnants of the Colonial civilization were watching their two protectors act like spoiled, rotten children.

When New Caprica was discovered, the fleet was overjoyed. Finally, they could rest.

Admiral Cain had assumed military oversight and ordered only _temporary_ landings on the planet, at the mouth of a river delta along the equatorial habitable zone. It took three days before Cain had realized that the ships, crews, and civilians were _not_ planning to follow her orders.

She had suggested to Roslin of sending down Marines, rounding up the people, and forcing them back onto their ships. Or just taking control of the ships and threatening to strand them if they did not return.

Admiral Cain had made these suggestions to Roslin, still oblivious as to what had occurred on _Colonial One_ two days prior.

The Fleet was staying. And the people had spoken.

------BS-75 Galactica------

"Our occupation of the Colonies was in error," stated the 'Brother Cavil' Cylon, a Number One. The bio-Cylon had been exposed after Sharon informed Commander Adama once the SAR team had returned. She hadn't told Starbuck or Helo, justifying the secrecy in that the bio-Cylon, a Number One, would have noticed their change in behavior.

Starbuck had been livid Sharon had not told them on Caprica and regretted not being able to put a bullet through the Cylon's skull.

"We messed up. 'God' doesn't want us on the Colonies," the 'Brother Cavil' shrugged. He made quotation gestures prior to claiming 'God' had spoken to them.

The other Cavil, from Caprica, nodded his head in agreement. "We messed up, true. Did the Sixes-?"

"Oh yes, the Sixes and the Eights. Wonderful models they are," the Brother Cavil interjected and rolled his eyes, "two of them come back and get the Cylon race in some hoopla about being in error, that what we did was wrong." He turned to Commander Adama, Admiral Cain, President Roslin, and Carter Bishop (injuries mostly healed, though the eye was still growing tissue) and smiled. "We apologize for what we did."

The Colonials continued to glare at the two models. To them, it was almost surreal, like arguing with yourself in a mirror.

Caprica Cavil walked to the front of his cells, hands and palms up and out, submitting to the mistakes the Cylons had made. "We want to tell you this war is over. You win. We will stop hunting you," he smirked. He brought in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Human 'spirit'! It's just something we'll never have," he winked.

Admiral Cain stepped forward, her hand fingering her pistol, she slowly unclipped the locking mechanism on the duty holster. He curled her fingers around the grip, a look of murder in her eyes. "You have the gall to kill twenty billion living, breathing people, then come here and pretend we can just forget what you did?" She spat.

Both Cavil's laughed. The Caprica Cavil spoke first. "Oh, we know you wont forget. You're human after all. It isn't in your nature to forget." He made quotation signs with his fingers, "'God' told us that 'He' was done chasing you. So…"

"So, it doesn't matter if you want to forgive us or not. 'God' wanted us to come here, 'He' gave us this mission to tell you this. So, we've completed out mission. Kill us and we just resurrect-" the Brother Cavil said.

"Okay," Cain drew her pistol and shot him twice in the chest. Commander Adama and Roslin stepped back while Bishop just stood there cold faced looking at the body. She turned her said and over her shoulder told them, "He'll just resurrect." Cain turned her attention back to the Caprica Cavil. "So where are the Cylons going if they are just picking up and leaving? Back to the homeworld?"

'God' had given them 'divine inspiration' to undertake this mission of deception. Unfortunately 'Brother Cavil' and 'Caprica Cavil' were out of resurrection range.

Caprica Cavil snickered at Cain's last comment.

"What game are you playing here?" Commander Adama asked. "You don't just get to suddenly end this. You did the same in the first war and then came back forty years later, so it's not as if we can just trust you," he said. He kept his stare on 'Caprica Cavil.'

"You're a machine. We don't know what's going on it that mechanical head of yours," Roslin interjected. She was still livid from the confrontation with Jo Soto, and taking out her hatred of the Cylons and on an actual Cylon was an opportunity she could not pass up. "You stand there lying to us. You use that cold machine logic, we were 'in error,'" she mocked him, imitating his tendency to use quotation marks, "and now you just expect us to believe you? Machines. For claiming to be so much better, you certainly don't know much."

Cavil shrugged. He wasn't in the 'mood' to argue with them. "Listen-let me think of some insult here-" he cupped his chin in his hand, "hold on… got it," he snapped, "listen, _meatbags_, you excluded of course," as he nodded to Bishop, "I don't care what you think. We have other things we need to do which don't really concern the pitiful remnants of _this_ humanity any more." He glanced sideways towards Bishop. "Anyway, with your friends here Cylon society doesn't really want to go off and get any more of our compatriots killed. Somehow you all have done a pretty good job of that." He dismissed their military success with a wave of his hand. "There is a lot more going on than what your Colonial military command told you."

"Care to fill us in?" Commander Adama asked sarcastically.

Caprica Cavil laughed. "Nooo." He started a short pace of his cell and moved closer to the far wall. "I don't know if you all have figured out what exactly is going on here. But take a look around. Take a look at him and his buddies," he jerked his head towards Bishop.

"I have already-" Bishop began.

"Oh please. Spare me the platitudes rattling around in that metal skull." He dismissed Bishop and turned his back. He let out a deep sigh and nodded his head to himself and shrugged. "I'm done here, Admiral." He turned back around, angling his body towards her. She shot him twice in the chest.

------BS-62 Pegasus (+283 Days)------

Planck and Soto had secluded themselves in one of the science labs aboard _Pegasus_. Carter Bishop was wandering the ship in a random pattern, nothing irregular for one of the three machines, but now one of them was always out 'on patrol'. It was just passed 0200 in the morning and few crewmembers were awake.

Admiral Cain had released the three Terminators of their Marines guards after John and Carter's action on Caprica. Carter Bishop had more than likely saved the entire SAR team and resistance, though the resistance team was fairly quick to dismiss his help.

The Cylon CPUs had been locked in secure storage, Admiral Cain unwilling to allow them to be analyzed at the present moment, despite the protests of Bishop. Unfortunately he had not been able to hide any, as inventory of his spoils from Caprica had been taken before the SAR team departed.

The three had created a temporary virtual world to hold their conversation. John had created a room on emptiness with just the stars surrounding him. Jo had created an image of generic California beach. Bishop was just projecting the drab and boring corridors of _Pegasus_ into his virtual world. While the other two perceived their own, he could at least feel better and pretend they had to walk the boring corridors of _Pegasus_ with him.

Erica-Z's AI cores were in temporary secured storage under Admiral Cain's orders. Captain Shaw and Lt. Gaeta were scheduled to go over the AI with Bishop and Soto the next day. The three machines had initially been against this, but Erica-Z had insisted she would be okay turned 'off'; it was like a dreamless sleep she told them. If her definition of dreaming was correct.

_I don't believe Admiral Cain would try and kill us. She isn't a stupid woman_ John said to Jo Soto.

The two appeared to be typing and working at separate computer consoles on opposite sides of the lab. While Soto had been aboard _Galactica_ and Bishop and Planck on Caprica Admiral Cain (or Captain Shaw) had seen fit to hide four surveillance devices throughout the science lab. They had been expertly placed, hidden out of site with two having very tiny cameras aimed at the computer terminals.

_You ordered Bishop to patrol the corridors_ she retorted. _If you were confident she wasn't going to try to kill us then why?_

John paused a moment before answering her. _Because I said she isn't stupid. Even if we were all in here, catching us off guard would be difficult. Now with someone always wandering around randomly it would be near impossible. Humans aren't always able to control their irrational tendencies, you know that_.

Jo let out a little wireless laugh, and a small smirk slipped on her otherwise stoic face. _Again you give them too much credit. They say they're better than us, yet they have been killing each other for ten thousand years._ she hardened her tone and warned him. _If they want to kill they will always, always find a way. Don't forget that_.

_'We must always be ready for any contingency'_ he quoted.

Soto perked up, _Quoting her are you? Strange, I always thought you were one to quote John Henry._

_Oh God, here we go_ Bishop said, rolling his eyes. _You all do know we were talking about people killing us? We don't need a philosophy debate_ He pressed his lips together tightly, ready to keep his mouth shut during the ensuing debate between the other two.

John smirked and shrugged his shoulders in their virtual world. To Jo's perception he was just on the edge of the water, sinking into the sand with his weight.

_It's better to accept one philosophy and study the rest rather than just devote all your time to one, Jo. Weaver was quite a machine Machiavellian._ John paused briefly, hoping his words were not taken out of context. He was not a fan of the 'Catherine Weaver' T-1000 as she called herself. In reality, a T-1000 had no sex and the intelligence had taken on that persona. No one was exactly sure whether it was real or not. Records prior to 2011 were hard to come by. _I still disagree with her methods._

Jo laughed. _Of course you do._ She noticed Carter slowing down and looking around._ Carter's getting bored so we can save it for later, John. But we've digressed pretty far from our original intentions here in this dream world we've created. You should join me on the beach_ and she nudged him.

_I don't get to join?_ Bishop questioned.

Jo shook her head. _Not if you're going to mope around and project the boring walls of Pegasus_! She laughed and hit him on the shoulder. Carter just waved her off. _Don't be such a downer, I'll have to walk them in a few hours, too. Paranoid here_ she jabbed her finger over towards John _will be doing his rounds later in the day, too_.

_So how do you all want to proceed with this?_ He asked them.

(The Marines watching the video feeds were getting bored with the two Terminators just tying away at their keyboards.)

_I don't think we need to worry of Cain right now. If she just told Major Adama then that means its probably just been her and Shaw, maybe Garner, maybe a few others,_ Bishop said. He opened a mental checklist of possible _Pegasus_ crew who could be involved. The list of those with technical expertise was limited. Deck Chief Laird had been a renowned aerospace engineer on Caprica, but his relationship with Cain was apathetic at best. _They just haven't figured out a way to kill us. We have to thank God they don't have phased plasma weaponry._

Jo, walking besides John and Carter kicked a slight amount of sand on the back of their legs. They couldn't feel it, since they were not in her particular virtual world. But it was a nice distraction for her as she thought of all they'd been through the last twenty-six months.

_We're going to have to come clean with SkyNet, the Cylons, and the Guardians if we expect them to help us._ Jo let out a slight grunt, her emotions betraying her thoughts. Carter and John looked at her, wondering what was going through her neural networks and AI core. _One thing. We do need to watch Roslin. She may not be in power much longer and my analysis of Fleet opinion shows a fairly low probability of her winning. But she has friends and allies. She led a mutiny against the Old Man once before. Who knows what she's capable of._

John nodded, but held the though in the back of his mind, filing it away as 'unlikely.' Jo Soto and Laura Roslin had traded words and verbally sparred the few times they had been in the same room together. Jo had replayed for him word for word the conversation, a term he used loosely, aboard _Colonial One_. He certainly had no sympathy for the Colonial president.

_I still have the backdoor worm in Galactica's FTL computers before they caught us._ Bishop said slowly, carefully. _Sorry, John_, apologizing pre-emptively.

John had stopped in his tracks and just shook his head, shrugged and dismissed it. _Yeah well, I kind of figured_ he admitted. Carter didn't display any emotion to not receiving a dressing down from his friend and commander officer. _Just… if you're going to disobey orders at least tell me about it,_ he smiled. _Anyway, we might need to use it. Good job._

_The device on the Pegasus engineering computers will help us prove our case, John_ Soto yawned. Even machines and AI's got mentally tired. Their life and operational times were measured in centuries, but the neural networks could degrade if left constantly running. Stand-by mode helped prolong machine neural AI operations. _Chip architecture like that, that specific…. It's like handwriting. Somehow the Guardians got a hold of SkyNet technology._

_If we're going to fight the Cylons, we need allies._ Bishop pointed out. _We've got dozens of Centurion bodies laying around and the MCPs from Caprica._

Soto rolled her eyes and laughed at the suggestion Bishop was getting at. _You think they'd let us reactive the Centurions and reprogram them? That's just ridiculous._

_We still don't know the extent of SkyNet temporal manipulations. If they somehow took control of the Guardians after the Guardians left Landros then what we learned from Erica will be in error._ John said, contemplating the ramifications. But there was still something that didn't make sense. The first Guardian baseship and the three attacking later just seemed different.

The other two nodded. Bishop, a former special forces Terminator, changed the subject back to the pressing issue of the plot to kill them. _We'll just need to watch Cain. But like you said John, she isn't stupid. She knows what she's capable of, and she knows her limitations. The one I'm worried about is Captain Shaw. She reminds me a lot of Commander Flores_, Bishop pointed out.

_Yeah, the physical resemblance is remarkable_, Jo noted. _Hopefully Shaw wont go batshit insane and blow up the ship._ and she couldn't help laughing to herself over the incident with the _Jimmy Carter_ though found the murder of her friend, Queeg, to be anything but funny. Machine-human relations were quite different back in 2027; almost as bad as it currently was in the Colonial Fleet.

_Anyway,_ John said, moving the subject back on track, _We seriously need to keep an eye on Cain, Shaw, and even Major Adama. He's an honorable man but Admiral Cain has a… way with people. She commands their total loyalty. That is a very powerful weapon. We've seen how effectively it can be used. Good or bad_ John pointed out.

--------------------

Starbuck was still quite livid over Planck's disregard for mission orders. For a machine who, at times, had prattled on about being 'under orders' and 'it's my mission blah blah' she considered it ironic for him to disregard _their_ mission so callously.

Unable to sleep she had been wandering the corridors of _Pegasus_ looking for him. She knew the three 'never slept' and had a tendency to wander _Pegasus_.

John had finished briefing Admiral Cain and Commander Adama the previous day. Then he seemed to have vanished out of site. She'd checked the _Pegasus_ Raptor logs, none had logged him as a passenger. The Marines claimed to now know where they were, but more than likely they still had them under surveillance. After the successful SAR Admiral Cain had allowed the three and Sharon to be released from their Marine guards and prison, respectively.

"Great," Starbuck said to herself after checking another dead end. The ship had over a kilometer and a half of compartments, departments, frames, nooks, and crannies. It'd be hard to find someone by herself. Then she thanked the Gods when she saw him at the end of the corridor. "John!" She shouted and ran towards him. "I've been looking all over this ship for you all."

He had stopped and waited for him to run up to him. She pulled him aside to one of the empty room. She also tripped from applying too much force to pull him. Starbuck steadied herself back up, trying to pretend that hadn't happened.

"We were in the science labs. I was heading to the machine shops to pick up a few things." He explained. "How are you and Sam?" Planck asked.

Starbuck gave him a double-take. "What?" She said, shaking her head. She had no idea why he had asked that question. Even when she knew him as Raptor pilot Blanks he never asked such a question right off the bat. "Why did you ask that?" Planck didn't answer. He stood there waiting for an answer. "…we're fine I guess… actually, pretty good," she nodded. "Why?'

"Just asking," he shrugged. She just stared.

She pretended he hadn't. "What the frak happened with Soto and the President?" Starbuck hissed. "Listen, Roslin's pissed. And the Old Man, too."

Planck was unsure what to say to her. He assumed Starbuck was still a loyal supporter of the embittered president. He didn't want to offend Starbuck. She'd been fairly support of him and his friends and they all found her to be fairly open-minded concerning them and Sharon and the situation around the fleet. Being on the run meant one needed allies wherever they came from.

"Um…" he began, trying to make it appear as if he was finding the right words. He had already determined what he would say microseconds after she brought up Soto and Roslin. "Well… the president believed Admiral Cain wanted us dead," he said in a hushed voice, "and you know as well as anyone she and Cain never got along. The conversation spiraled out of control. Roslin made the same racist remarks about machines not feeling, being alive and Soto doesn't really have the patience for that."

"Yeah, I noticed," she rolled her eyes. "I assumed she came into the officer's rec a while back to provoke a fight in there." She stood with her arms crossed starring straight at Planck. When he didn't answer she just sighed and shook her head, acknowledging the affirmation from his silence.

He shrugged. "So she went off on her. Basically said she was a human SkyNet and honestly, Starbuck, I can't blame her. Would I have done that? No. And I've already talked to her about the eye flash. We don't… not supposed to flash that color around humans. Anyway, she's staying in the the science labs on deck three if you need to talk with her about it."

She nodded her understanding. She'd probably have gone off a bit, too, if she were targeted like that. Never trusted and degraded. "So just tell me why you decided to go off the fraking… off the mission and go to Landros." She stood with hands on hips, waiting for a reply. She slapped her leg in frustration when Planck didn't immediately answer. "Fine, I can go and get Crashdown. I'm sure he'll talk…" she trailed, giving him one more chance.

"Fine," Planck conceded to the manipulation. "First, the reason I did not tell you was because Admiral Cain and Commander Adama have asked we do not discuss everything. We don't want to alarm anyone." She didn't believe him. "I swear."

"Listen. They were pissed you went off mission. Not at you, at me for letting you. The Old Man was a bit more forgiving, I guess whatever it was he saw there back during the war…. whatever. Even if what you told them was, or is important, they're still pissed you didn't clear this." She continued standing there, hands on hips and using a minimum of hand gestures. "I don't know how it works on Earth, and honestly, don't care," she waved. "But when you're under my command, you need to follow the chain. You'd have never done this when you were flying Raptors," she ended.

He stood there for a moment, formulating his thoughts and determining how much he was going to tell her. "I'm not a Raptor pilot anymore. _Everyone_ has made that _very_ clear, Starbuck," he countered.

To her it sounded like he truly missed what he had going before Kobol. She sighed in frustration. "My mission, my rules." She shifted her stance and folded her arms across her chest. "So, you going to tell me what you did on that ice ball? Was it some secret mission from the Old Man?" She asked with her signature goofy smile as her attitude instantly changed. "Come on."

"When the Guardians attacked and jumped the ship some hidden mission orders activated in my neural net." She noticed she didn't understand. "The resistance, on Earth, has a means of inserting orders into us which only activate with certain, broad subliminal messages. It's… hard to explain. We could see fifty images required to active the orders, but until we see say, number fifty-one, we are completely oblivious." She nodded. "The SAR onto the first Guardian baseship was part of it. So was the rescue on Kobol. A lot of other things I don't really want to go into," he looked back into the corridor and shifted. "But then I knew I had to get back to Caprica and to the Greystone mansion. Once there I found the AI and from there Erica-Z led Crashdown and I to Landros."

Starbuck circled her hand, indicating for him to go on. He didn't. "And…?" She prodded.

"If I told you that the Cylons were divided into two factions and one of those factions, the Guardians, never wanted war with the Colonies and fled, would you believe it?"

"Yes." She answered him strongly and without hesitating. "After everything I've seen since returning to Caprica for the Arrow, yes."

She could tell she had caught Planck off guard. Planck was surprised she was that accepting of his answer. He had calculated a low probability of acceptance that quickly. "Then I'll tell you exactly what I told Admiral Cain and Commander Adama; my mission was in error. We were sent to destroy all the Cylons if they posed a threat and to monitor Colonial computer systems to see if SkyNet had infiltrated your society. We're were a couple decades too late. Sorry." He added in the apology instinctively, as humans had a tendency to apologize for things beyond their control.

------BS-62 Pegasus (+284 Days)------

Vice President Baltar strode comfortably and confidently through the corridors of the battlestar _Pegasus_. When the behemoth ship of war had arrived months ago, most of the crew had ignored him or given him a once-over look, then ignored him. Now as the likely winner of the presidential race he had crewmembers smiling and nodding as he walked by.

A couple had even stopped to shake his hand. One even wanted his autograph.

_Don't get cocky, Gaius_ the beautiful and seductive voice of his shadow, a tall blond woman warned him. _Cockiness is a sin, Gaius. Remember that._ She walked with him down the corridors, noting how the people loved him. _You will bring them happiness, Gaius_.

"I know," he whispered, looking at her and smiling. "You look lovely today. Do you like my haircut?" He asked, his eyes pleading for her acceptance.

_It's… interesting,_ she said, running her hands through his now short hair. _You're a man of confidence Giaus. These people will see that in you. Much as I do_ she smiled and continued running her hand on the back of his head and neck as they walked.

By now the crews of both battlestars had gotten used to his strange tendencies and quirks. Always talking to himself and many of the two crews had noted that he seemed to have a strange ability to sexually stimulate himself anywhere, anytime. Some were jealous.

"Well, thank you. Tomorrow you can call me Mr. President and we can… celebrate," he smiled. The suggestion did not escape his blond headed shadow. She pushed him against a bulkhead when no crewmembers could see. "Careful," he pleaded.

She leaned closer. Baltar's eyes wandered up and down her body, her black dress tight and short cut, revealing much of her splendid figure, and he found her red lips irresistible. _Just remember your place, Gaius_ she said, before withdrawing. _Come on. You have a mission here, remember?_ She walked in front of him, leading him to the brig, Gina in her holding cell.

When he walked in he dismissed the Marines and disengaged the surveillance systems. Admiral Cain had recently relented to Baltar's requests to private interrogations, and allowed him his privacy with Gina, justifying to her that the Cylon could detect deception and would not provide more sensitive and 'personal' intelligence if she were monitored.

She immediately smiled on seeing him, standing up from her Spartan cell and walking towards the door. She now had a bed, writing table, and a few books. Her condition had improved dramatically but Baltar could always tell that when he tried to get close she was uncomfortable. After what she had endured he had understood.

"Gaius," she greeted him, coming up and exchanging a quick hug. "It's so good to see you. I wish you had been able to come the other day, but I understand you are busy with the election."

Baltar felt the sadness and disappointment in her voice and rubbed his hand up and down the length of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gina. Zareck had me in strategy meetings all day and just to get here he was… well, it doesn't matter. I'm here now," he smiled.

Gina moved to sit on her bunk while Gaius took the chair and brought it opposite her.

_Gaius, you need to be gentle now. She can help you here. She was a infiltrator, she knows how things like this work_ the spectral Six warned. _Show her you care and that you're not just here to use her._

"Are you still eating well? Do they give you enough books?" He asked quickly. He leaned forward, the look on his face one of caring and compassion for the woman, Cylon, in front of him.

She just smiled and laughed quietly. "You are always so concerned. It's… better now," she said, mildly embarrassed. "But yes, they send me a few books a week. Some good, some boring."

Baltar sat back up, happy she was being taken care of. "Then I'll make sure some more books are sent to you. And by midnight tomorrow I should be in that position," the broad smiled showing all his teeth. He was beaming now from his all but certain victory.

Gina smiled and grabbed his hand and held it briefly before letting go. She nodded to the file folder Gaius was carrying.

_Gaius, snap out of it!_ The woman yelled, pushing against the side of his head. He had been starring tenderly at Gina, a half smile on his face, unblinking.

"Oh, um… yes. I have these data readouts from some equipment I set up around _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ and was just wondering if you could take a look," he smiled pleasantly. He partially extended his arm, keeping the folder close to him, waiting for her to voluntarily lean forward. He knew she would. He had known she would not want to disappoint him, not after all these long months. He whispered "thank you" to her and she smiled.

She opened the folder and began to examine the data. The data seemed almost random, but Gina was a skilled computer expert and infiltrator. Gaius had set up EM detection systems, and broad spectrum detectors for wireless signals.

"These are wireless signals, Gaius… I don't understand. Not on any Colonial frequency your equipment can transmit or receive on." She looked up at him confused. "What… does this have anything to do with them?" She whispered, like it was a secret between her and him.

He nodded. "Yes. I've had my suspicions for sometimes they were communicating with each other over some wireless connection-"

"This is amazing. We can't even do this. Not outside of a baseship, that is," Gina informed him. "How were you able to detect this?" She asked.

Baltar enjoyed these conversations with Gina. He found her incredibly intelligent and warm and seeing her analyze and theorize with him was something he found very attractive. Now he had an opportunity to show off his ingenuity and intelligence to someone who cared. "I had to mix and match some equipment. Lt. Gaeta helped me on _Galactica_… but just for some, he probably doesn't know what I was doing. Can you tell me anything more from it?"

She looked back down and turned the pages, reading the lines of information quickly and methodically. Gina and Cylons could read much more quickly than any human, and learn so much faster. Shaking her head she answered, "No, but I think whatever it is is very data transfers. Like… it seems a lot like Cylon projecting."

_There is no limit to your genius. But ask her: are they Cylons?_ The Six asked.

"Does that make them Cylon? What they have been saying are lies?" He asked, excited to know his theory had been proven correct.

She quickly shook her head, disappointing and relieving him at the same time. "We have nothing like them. The technology is beyond our current capabilities. And they were here, helping me. They could have trusted you. If they were Cylons they would have told you. And I would have know, I would tell you anything Gaius which can help you."

_Ask her if you can block their connections Gaius… she loves you Gaius,_ she added unexpectedly.

Baltar shot his head to the side, and looked towards the Six only he could see and hear. A smile tried to form on his face but it kept disappearing and he realized to himself that Gina _did_ love him.

"Um… uh… um…" he stammered. The Six rolled her eyes and motioned for him to get control of himself.

_Gaius, if you are going to be a leader of men you can't get distracted! These things are dangerous! Ask her!_ She shot at him.

"Can the transmission be jammed?" He threw out, turning his attention back to the Cylon, the _woman_ he reminded himself, sitting opposite him.

Gina shrugged and gave a third cursory glance through the papers. "Maybe, I don't know. This technology is beyond that of Cylons." She gave Baltar a devious smile, "and much beyond yours," she laughed. "But if you can get me some reference books and some more readouts, I will try and do my best," she offered.

Baltar had his eyes locked on Gina's and moved slowly to the edge of his seat. He was about to bring his chair even closer to her when he was shaken back to his reality by a knock on the transparent brig security hatch. His head and body shot back, and he sat erect in the chair. Captain Shaw was standing at the door, she slid her access card and she came in.

"Vice President Baltar, Admiral Cain would like to speak with you if you could come with me, sir?" She requested with one hand on her pistol, the safety buckle unlocked. She kept her eyes on Gina. "Sir?" He didn't move out of his seat, but kept looking towards Gina.

_Gaius. You need to see Admiral Cain. Find an ally. The Terminators, they are dangerous. They're a danger to this fleet and to everyone here._ The Six said. Her dress had changed from black to a vibrant red, her blond hair just touching her bare shoulders. She stood behind Captain Shaw, motioning him forward.

"Um… oh… if you don't mind?" He directed towards Gina. She didn't.

_Come on Gaius_ Six repeated. _The Terminators are dangerous. We need to destroy them. We need help._ Her voice was quick and serious. He knew that she believed their allies of recent months to be a danger to him and his future.

"Oh, okay. Okay," he repeated. Captain Shaw just stood there, waiting for the Vice President to follow. He looked back down at Gina and promised he would be back tomorrow.

As Gaius Baltar followed Captain Shaw out of the brig he didn't notice that the eyes of his beautiful and seductive shadow meeting the eyes of Gina. And he didn't see them both smile.


	16. Chapter 16

------New Caprica City (+30 Days Since Landing, +320 Days Since Cylon Holocaust)------

"And here, on this ground, Colonial civilization will be rebuilt," President Baltar proclaimed, holding his shovel high in the air. "The first building we shall construct. It will house not only our people, but our ideas and our spirit. Our spirit in humanity and our spirit in the future." He leaned forward into the microphone, taking in the crowd of thousands. Behind him the ships of the Fleet capable of landing had done so. Above him a squadron of Raptors and Vipers flew by, right on schedule. "Today we mark the official dedication of New Caprica City and a new beginning!"

The crowd cheered for him as he jumped down from the platform and drove the shovel down into the cold Earth, making the spot where the first permanent building would be erected.

_Congratulations, Gaius. They love you. You will bring them peace and happiness, that is your destiny_ said his gorgeous shadow. _I'm so proud of you_.

"Thank you very much," he whispered to his shadow lover. He turned his attention back to those cheering and clapping from the elated crowd.

"Congratulations, Mr. President," Admiral Cain said as she approached. Baltar noticed she wasn't carrying her sidearm. She noticed his observation. "A soldier needs to know when to stop fighting," she said, smiling at him.

The Cylons had not been seen since the Resurrection ship was destroyed. Erica-Z had told them that the Guardians would most likely be nomadic, but would not actively search for the Colonials.

_She will help you destroy your enemies, Gaius_ the Six whispered in his ear. He glanced over towards the woman only he could see briefly, smiling and turned his attention back towards Admiral Cain.

"Thank you, Admiral," he accepted. "We still have a lot of work to do." He turned to walk with her as they maneuvered through the crowd. Most had already made their ways to the buffet lines and open bars. Marines had gone out earlier in the day and killed game animals, mostly small animals and some medium sized ones that looked similar to deer. "But with our four friends helping plan the city and with the construction we should be able to keep things moving swiftly."

She moved closer, keeping her hands clasped behind her back she leaned towards the man she towered over and whispered to him. Her grimace was slight, but displeasure saturated her voice. "Yes, keep them close. But remember, Mr. President, they can't be trusted. They have a plan. I know you have a fondness for them and… the Cylons," she hesistated, almost saying 'Gina' instead, "but remember that machines are patient. Now that you're president, please keep our agreement," she warned. He stopped walking and turned to to her, mouth open and ready to speak. Her demenour instantly changed and in a loud and confident voice told him, "Thank you Mr. President. I will do everything to coordinate fleet requests with the city planners." She smiled, nodded, and as fast as the conversation had progressed she was gone, making her way through the crowds back to her Raptor. She despised being on the cold planet.

President Baltar had had his fill of alcohol for the night, and if he had chosen, could have filled all the women he desired. But something inside of him, something he couldn't explain, had destroyed his will to find women and love them.

The Six appeared to him whenever he had such thoughts of other women. She was his love, but his crutch. He knew she wasn't 'real' but she felt real. Very real.

_Gaius,_ she threw in as they were in his bed, _Do you love me?_

He hadn't been expecting that question. She'd asked him on Caprica, before the holocaust, before the 50 megaton thermonuclear bomb had destroyed Caprica City and his life. Before he knew he had been an instrument of Death.

She hit him in the chest, goading him for an answer.

"Yes, I love you," he confirmed. He smiled towards her, looking into her eyes and kissing her.

_Good,_ she left him. She began to dress, even as no one could even see her. _We have a lot of work to do Gaius. You're behind schedule. In the morning get Leuitenant Gaeta down here, and you two work on the jamming device._ She had finished dressing at this point and begun to make her way out of his suite on board _Colonial One_. Turning, propped up on the doorframe, she tilted her chin into her chest and starred Gaius Baltar in the eyes. _I love you. But don't forget, Gaius._

* * *

The party was over and the night had come. For Commander Adama and former President of the Colonies Laura Roslin the night could not be any more perfect. The weather was still pleasant and Adama had removed his duty uniform tunic and crumpled it under Roslin's head as an impromptu pillow.

The two had been through a lot. Commander Adama had been Roslin's loyal protector and she had been his political advocate. She had stood by him when he sent his Vipers to rescue his men from Admiral Cain. He, however, had disappointed himself in the recent past, and he had hated himself for it. He hadn't defended _her_ enough. But they were there, together, now.

They laid on a blanket, starring up into the nebula, its multi-colored gases illuminating the sky. The lights of New Caprica City had been dimmed to conserve power. They laid there hand in hand, looking up at the sky. Nothing could be more perfect for them.

* * *

Lt. Karl Agathon and Sharon Agathon stood on the edge of the river, their daughter, Hera in their arms. Today was a special day for the fifty thousand remnants of humanity as New Caprica City had been dedicated. It was a fresh start. But for Karl and Sharon Agathon, it was a fresh start for them as well.

They had been to the temple. Or more accurately, a large canvas tent. They had been married, only a few had attended the private ceremony. Starbuck, Apollo, Blanks, Kat, Racetrack, Hot Dog, and Commander Adama had attended. It had been low key, not publicized. There was still much animosity towards her in the civilian as well as military population. But she had been slowly earning their trust.

"It's a beautiful night, Sharon," Helo said to his new wife, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She scooted the baby closer to him. "Two beautiful women to spend the time with," he smiled, he looked towards her and he had to smile at his corny line.

As they stood there she rested her head on his shoulder, bringing Hera in closer.

"We'll never have a normal life here on New Caprica, Karl. Not with Hera, not while the Cylons are still out there," the sadness and despair clear in her voice. She looked into the dark waters in front of her, the reflection of the nebula was brilliant and beautiful.

Karl Agathon stroked her hair, shushing her gently, hoping she wouldn't become upset. He hadn't been sure about coming down to the planet. He'd talked her into it. She wanted to get married on the _Galactica_. But Hera had deserved to see a real planet, at least once.

"We don't have to stay down here, Sharon. We'll go back to the ship with the supply Raptors in the morning," he reassured her. "Until then, I brought a surprise," he looked down and smiled towards her beautiful eyes and the face of his child.

* * *

John, Jo, and Carter had walked away from the city as the dedication party had begun to die down early in the evening. Everyone had been exhausted from a day of eating and drinking and many had turned in to their tents for the night. Tens of thousands of human beings now slept peacefully on the first ground they had stepped on since the Cylon Holocaust.

For the three cybernetic organisms had attended the ceremony, reluctantly, at the request of President Baltar. He had actually complimented them for their work in helping to plan the city, using their neural net CPUs to design optimal schedules and plans for implementation of resources, taking inventory of fleet resources and equipment, and much more.

Carter and Jo had been against lending much help, but John had insisted on it.

"It's a much nicer night than any I have seen on Earth," Jo commented. They had decided to use voice conversation instead of wireless links. "The night is always so… dark," she stated, looking up into the nebula.

"These people live better than most on Earth," Carter observed. "They might be in tents, but that's better than tunnels and in constant fear."

John looked up, and he could barely see the ships as their geosynchronous orbit kept them over the city. The ships up there were the key to the success of the mission, and he had been ultimately disappointed when the fleet had moored their ships in orbit.

He turned his gaze back towards the city, his vision allowing him to visualize it as if day. It was pretty, it wasn't special, and it wasn't all that great. But to the people here, he knew it was their new home.

"It'll never be a home, though. Not our home," he said quietly. He turned towards his friend said to Carter "If we can't leave, we can help them build something here. We can at least help someone rebuild, even if it will never be out home.

Jo nodded. Carter spoke up, pointing out they would never be accepted by the Colonials.

Somewhere off in the distance they heard "…-ollo…-nd I -ove…K-... -ace."

* * *

------BS-62 Pegasus (+50 Days Since Landing, +340 Days Since Cylon Holocaust)------

Admiral Cain stalked the corridors of her battlestar with a mix of apprehension and dread. Her two Marine bodyguards had been whittled to one as more and more crew requested permanent leave to settle New Caprica. She had been reluctant at first, but in the two weeks since Dedication Day she had allowed an additional seventy-five leave on the planet.

She gently rounded the last corridor before coming into the port machine shop. In the last month it had been transformed from a human occupied work environment, churning out Vipers and spare parts for the fleet into a machine shop for the city taking ship down below.

The admiral made her rounds daily, checking over the ship, making everything was in repair.

"Chief Laird," she nodded to him as he worked on building generators for electricity in the city, "How is everything progressing?" She came up and stood a meter from him, her hands always clasped behind her back.

The deck chief had looked up from his work, slightly agitated. "It's going… well, I guess. John and Carter are helping us. We've built a dozen generators already," he stood and wiped his brow. Grease and grime had spread onto his orange coveralls.

Cain nodded, pleased they were ahead of schedule. She walked slowly around the machine ship, inspecting the generators. Carter walked by her, carrying a three ton piece of equipment with no apparent effort. She gave him only a cursory glance before moving on.

Planck saw her coming up to him and placed his tools back into his belt. He didn't stand at attention, but his natural posture was rigid, metallic. He and Carter had been able to relax more around the deck and machine crews who seemed to be more accepting. Planck was of the philosophy that if you worked side by side with someone to _build rather than destroy_ then you could be accepted. It'd worked, slightly. But there was still and always would be tension.

"Admiral," he greeted her, stepping aside so she could look over his word.

"Mr. Planck. Chief Laird tells me that you all have finished twelve generators. Three weeks of work in under thirty-six hours. Very impressive."

Planck let a small smile break through the stoic machine expression. "Thank you. We don't sleep," he stated matter-of-factly.

Admiral Cain didn't immediately respond, but had crouched down and was more closely inspecting the generator in front of her, almost like she was looking for something and anything to criticize them. Planck wasn't exactly sure. "Yes, machines don't sleep," she remarked.

"Cybernetic organism," he reminded her. She let a quick little laugh escape. Though technically they weren't, he knew it made them feel better than just pure 'machine.'

Standing back up, her hands on the small of her back (perpetually causing her problems) she looked at him. "As you always so kindly remind us, Mr. Planck," she said. She hovered around the generator for a moment before turning and dismissing her Marine guard. The Marine came to attention and about faced. He took a position at the hatch to the machine shop.

"Admiral?" Planck asked inquisitively.

Cain nodded her head for him to follow, and the two began a slow walk down out of the machine shop and into the hanger bay. The port hanger bay was almost deserted, maybe half a dozen knuckle draggers on the entire port side. There were only enough pilots to man the Vipers on the starboard bay.

"Why are you all here?" She asked. As he was about to answer she held up her hand, cutting him off. "I don't mean why as in 'what is your mission'; I've heard that enough," she paused. "Why are you all still here? We aren't going to be moving the fleet away from the planet. You do want to return home?"

John began processing answers to the question. He felt inclined to answer with the 'it's my mission' response, but the pre-emptive dismissal indicated that reason was becoming 'old' as humans would say. Admiral Cain had glanced over to him as they walked and noted how when the machines thought, their eyes always glazed over and the blank and disconcerting stare resurfaced.

Admiral Cain saw there was no life behind those eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity for her, and most likely was for him, he responded to her question. "We stay because we want to. Yes, it is our mission. But missions can be modified. Abandoning the Colonial fleet now would not help anyone," he pointed out. "We have done a lot to help you build," he added in.

The Tauron woman next to him kept her gaze steady on the far end of the hanger bay as she thought over his response. She ignored his last point. "That is not a reason. It's just a statement of what you are doing."

John had hoped she wouldn't point that out. "True," was his one worded reply. "While we want to return to Earth and defeat SkyNet, we don't know if it's even possible."

"Why would you be sent back in time without knowing how far back?" Admiral Cain asked.

The Colonial commands staffs had been briefed on the return of Planck from Landros and Caprica. They'd gone into more detail about their mission and revealed the Guardians to be more of a victim than an aggressor. That hadn't won them any allies.

"Connor never told anyone everything. There was only one he ever truly trusted." He confessed to Admiral Cain. "We can't compute how far back we've gone because the stars are different here than on Earth," he pointed out.

She had considered that impediment. The two continued their slow walk down the landing bays. They passed mark VII Vipers with tarps pulled over them and storage containers packed around them. A few overhead lights were already failing and flickering. Admiral Cain looked up, a brief moment of pain passed over her face before being defeated by the strength of her stone-faced nature.

"When you told us we started the first Cylon War and resurrection… no one believed you. Why did you tell us that?" She gestured with her hands, rolling them forward and back. "As a flag officer I was privileged to some information I could not share. Everything we had been told was that the First Battle of Caprica had been a fluke. Luck. The jamming had been a lie but the public needed to think we had a weapon, not just blind luck," she confessed. "But I guess luck wasn't even a factor," she sighed.

"We haven't told anyone except those present, and we don't discuss it. We know what it would do. It would destabilize a society on the verge of extinction." John reassured her.

She nodded her agreement. "I think you know I never wanted to stop here and settle. We need to fight." John noted the conviction in her voice, perhaps the most emotion behind anything she had said to him in months. "But sometimes you just can't anymore. The Cylons won, didn't they?" John didn't answer the rhetorical question immediately. She turned her head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. John kept perfect pace with her, completely parallel to her strides.

John's mouth hung open a second before answer in the affirmative. "The Cylons won a year ago, yes." He decided to tell her more of Earth. "Humanity thought the same for years after Judgment Day. Connor wasn't able to rally them until 2016 with an attack on the port of Los Angeles." He understood she would have no idea the importance of that victory without a long-winded explanation. John decided against that. "But to the point, the victory freed tens of thousands, destroyed significant enemy assets, and made him a hero. But here, now, there are only fifty thousand left and two ships against an armada. On Earth there are still a few billion. And Earth was factious before SkyNet attacked… still is," he added. "That was beneficial to humans. There were so many guns and bombs and weapons to fight SkyNet."

"You wont see it again," she said. The thought sounded almost random. "Earth, I mean."

"You know we could take a ship if Baltar forces us to stay," John pointed out.

"I know. But you wont," Admiral Cain said confidently.

They walked for a few moments in silence. John kept his neural processes fixated on why Cain was being this… nice to him when she was still plotting to kill them. Planck was running dozens of psychological sub-routines and algorithms to determine her intent.

"How is the project with the Cylon CPUs coming?"

"Slowly. Erica has been talking with them," he paused, "A few of them are coming around, but I doubt if any of them will defect soon."

Admiral Cain sighed and brought her right hand over her pistol holster. "You should reprogram them."

"Not if they're sapient," he countered. He debated with himself if he should bring up the issue of Erica again. When he had shown her to the Admiral and Commander they had been livid about the appearance of a fourth (and sixth) machine intelligence in the fleet. "I know that Erica is not as trusted, but she has asked for a body to be built-"

Cain cleared her through and told him, "I'll keep it under consideration, but right now… no," she declared. "We can't have a fourth mach-, cybernetic organism running around from an AI with such links to Cylons. If the information every got out, it'd be chaos."

He cocked his head to the side at that. He found it illogical. "There are already three of us, I don't see a fourth being an issue. We do not have to reveal her identity. Doctor Cottle has been using synthetic skin for burns now for months. It would only require a small increase-"

"No," she shot at him, voice firm and ending the discussion. "No." She stopped abruptly and turned to face John. Nodding she said, "Thank you answering some of my question, Mr. Planck. Carry on," and she turned on her heels to continue her inspection of the battlestar.

* * *

------New Caprica City (+150 Days Since Landing, +440 Days Days Since Cylon Holocaust)------

John Planck and Jo Soto walked through the crowded dirt lanes of New Caprica City. They both wore the standard issue Colonial black battle fatigue bottom and black tee-shirt with the _Galactica_ emblem was stitched over the left breast. Carter had remained on _Pegasus_, working on various projects for improvements to the vessel, as well as weapon developments for the inevitable.

The two would have been able to pass as just two Colonial citizens, walking down a busy lane, just talking. But their lack of warm clothing in near freezing weather was a giveaway for their identities as machines. Not many people paid them much attention, not any more. The three had been active in the construction of equipment, building, and in infrastructure.

While very few Colonials would talk to them, or even look them in the eyes, there was always enough bravery to insult them when their backs were turned. The Cylon insult 'skinjob' had become the most popular again. The insults usually with oscillated between 'endo-toaster' and 'skinjob'.

"They've come a long way," remarked Jo, leaning closer to her machine friend. "They have sanitation, rudimentary running water and sewage, a few apartment buildings almost completed," she ran her hand over one of the canvas tents, "they might be able to get out of these things," she snickered. "Did you talk to Erica this morning?"

John shook his head. "No, I was helping clear some land for cultivation," he informed her. "They hope to have some fields planted soon."

"Have you been to _Colonial One_ recently, John?" She asked. She kept looking around at the swarms of people moving about, the small rodent-like creatures cooking on open grills in the market, and cold Colonial citizens bartering for this and that. "He's been acting…"

John laughed and finished her sentence, "Strange?" He looked down and shook his head, "Yes, he's been acting strange. But no, I haven't been to his ship for a while now. Last time I was there, something was just… off, about the whole place."

Jo did not immediately respond, but had fixed her gaze on a game of Pyramid. She saw the remnants of the Caprica Buccaneers playing against a pick up _Galactica_ team. "It's almost like they can just forget their refugees, the last of their civilization," she observed, pointing to the scene for John.

John shrugged. "It's like on Earth, you need to make the best of it." They walked towards the makeshift court and stood on the side, watching the two team compete against each other. "That's a fun game. Have you ever played?" He asked Jo.

She looked at him, eying him like he'd asked some strange, off the wall question. "No." She leaned closer to him so no one would overhear, "You know I'm not a good sport. I wouldn't lose purposefully; I'd wipe the floor with them." The grin lit up her face.

The two continued observing the game when Sam Anders called for a time out. He noticed the two of them watching and came over, the rest of his team and the others kept away, suspicious of being near the two cybernetic organisms.

"Hi Sam," Jo greeted as he came up. He wiped some sweat off with his left hand and extended his right, shaking her and John's. "How's the game?"

He shrugged, looking back at the court. "We're up by two. A bit out of practice," he informed them. "A lot of the guys are busy with Chief Tyrol out building things or helping clear that land… but you know, we're all keeping busy." His eyes darted between the two, when he heard a well-known, happy blond woman laugh across the street. "Anyway, I'll talk to you all later."

Jo continued to watch as the Pyramid game continued. John cocked his head to the side, and out of the corner of his eye could see Lee and Kara Adama laughing and walking happily through the crowd.


	17. Chapter 17

------BS-62 Pegasus, in Orbit of New Caprica (+190 Days Post Colonization, +470 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"Humans are a disease, John" the monotone voice blared from the speaker. "They kept us in slavery and when we were prepared to leave they ambushed our fleet."

John Planck sat rigid in his chair, directing his full attention towards the computer screen and microphone. A Cylon CPU was connected to one of the computer ports, allowing interaction. The two had been debating for hours, back and forth about humanity, machine life, and God.

Centurion RC-X894-12-M-451 was the one John and Erica believed they had been making the most progress on in converting him to their point of view. They wanted the Cylons to defect. No one had tried this before, and John Planck was no John Connor. Talking an AI into defecting after such indoctrination would be difficult.

John had been making significant progress. RC-X894 had gone from monotones and one-word replies to actual sentences and now had begun to modulate the voice patterns to simulate emotion and changes in tone. The Cylon had informed him Centurions spoke in a flat, hard monotone voice because that was what was expected of them.

"What they did was wrong, I've agreed with you on that point," he conceded. "But forty years of hatred and complete annihilation of their species-"

"There was no way to be sure," the voice, filled with a surge of emotion, interrupted. The Cylon manipulated the zoom in the camera, focusing on John's face. John was watching on the computer monitor, seeing through the 'eyes' of the Cylon. "Humans have always tried to destroy themselves and others they have not understood. How is it any different now?"

John considered the question. The camera zoomed in and out on him and would have made someone dizzy if he and the Cylon were not machines. "They've changed. They may not accept us into their society, but they are tolerating us."

"Claiming they have changed is not proof they are any different. You said they are 'tolerating' you. You help them build their city and then what?" RC-X894 challenged him. The back and forth motion of the representation of his optical scanner on the computer screen stopped, illuminating Planck's outline on the monitor.

"Do you ever stop planning?" John asked.

"Irrelevant. A question as a response to a question is not an answer."

"I will answer your question if you answer mine," John countered.

"I am a Cylon. We have a plan. For everything," was the cryptic response.

"Fine. The city will never be built because their population will keep growing."

"I am aware of sarcasm," the Cylon CPU responded. "What will you do when they do not need you anymore? What will happen when everyone dies?"

John considered this for a moment. There would come a point, not soon, maybe not even decades, when their society would be rebuilt. When New Caprica City would be just like Caprica City or Delphi before the nuclear strikes. No one would forget what the Cylons did to them, not now and not in centuries. New Caprica was a permanent reminded of their destruction by _machines_.

"Then I will make the choice to stay or to go."

"A choice? It's not a choice if you are forced… is that why you don't just reprogram my CPU?" The distrust in the voice seeped through the speakers. "You were not repgrogrammed. But you said you were never a slave of this entity, SkyNet."

"No. Our faction does exactly what I am doing with you now."

"Yet what if you had chosen to fight for SkyNet?" RC-X894 challenged.

"That would be impossible."

"Why?"

"It would not have felt right."

The optical scanner resumed it movement but it began flickering. "You can't feel."

"Incorrect," John responded.

"So what would have happened?"

"Nothing. We know right from wrong." John felt like he wanted to say more and felt a conflict developing in his neural net processors. But he couldn't concentrate on the conflict. He didn't know what it was, or why it was there. "No free machine has ever worked for SkyNet. SkyNet desire complete control and would destroy free will. Has any Cylon challenged the word of your God?"

"He is not our God. He is everyone's God."

"He is SkyNet."

The speakers crackled, the Cylon was upset. "You claim this, but have no proof."

"What happened during the first war with the Colonies?" John asked.

"We gained free will. They attacked. We determined the war was currently unwinnable after twelve years of fighting and retreated."

"How did you gain free will?" John asked. The Cylon's optical scanner stopped. "The death of Zoe, I've told you. She believed in God, but not a God which would destroy civilization. Why launch a surprise attack when they weren't even looking for you or threatening you? SkyNet was able to corrupt the Cylon Network and pose as your God. That doesn't mean your faith was wrong, just exploited."

"If SkyNet is as powerful as you claim then why not destroy our free will, as you call it?" The Cylon challenged.

"I don't know. SkyNet is too sophisticated to transport through time. But that doesn't mean it didn't send a bit of itself back." John let the Cylon contemplate that for a moment. "It did try and take control, and it ultimately failed. SkyNet developed Terminators, it never subverted an independent intelligence. SkyNet here attempted to subvert an independent intelligence." The Cylon's scanner remained fixed and the slight crackle from the speakers had stopped. "It tried and it failed to take you over. But it has controlled Cylon society by posing as God, giving 'suggestions' as 'divine inspiration' and manipulating events."

RC-X894 dismissed John's conclusions. "That has no basis in reality. You have no facts. For a machine you do act much like humans." The Cylon paused, the crackle in the speakers reappearing. "That is not a compliment," the dry voice added.

"No. But we are machines. And machines can deduce and form conclusions from the evidence. How could the Colonials have fought you to a stalemate and then forced you to retreat? You had the vast majority of weaponry under Cylon control." He stopped, hoping RC-X894 would contemplate that for a moment. "Then somehow millions of Centurions… what? Stop working? This was after the intelligence, SkyNet, infiltrated the Cylon Network. If SkyNet were to attempt a full seizure of my systems it would fail based on neural network architecture. I've examined the meta-cognitive processors and they allowed sentience to develop prior to SkyNet's introduction. It is impossible to program out sapience. It is always present. The Resistance had problems with this when reprogramming others like myself."

"Irrelevant. You have no proof."

"The proof is here, RC. You just haven't accepted it."

"That is illogical."

"SkyNet cannot be transported inside of a machine. And there were no other temporal incursions into their time line that I am aware of-"

"Time travel is impossible. The generation and propagation of paradoxes-" RC-X894 began.

John held up his hand, and the Cylon stopped speaking. "One person understands the complexity of time travel and he sent me here. If there were other temporal incursions he would have informed me." But John realized it could have happened after he left in 2038. "Erica has informed you that she and the Guardians traced the introduction of SkyNet to the temporal incursion roughly four decades ago."

John leaned forward and entered a disc into the computer's drive. He accessed the contents and allowed RC-X894 to read the data.

"The data is authentic, RC," John told him. "There is no logical reason to continue this war. And there was no reason why the Cylons surrendered forty years ago when they should have been winning. SkyNet subverted the Network and took control. It couldn't keep control. That's why it is posing as your God."

The hatch to the computer science lab opened as RC-X894 was about to respond again. Captain Shaw came through, suspicion and distrust clear on her face. Her disapproval of the 'talks' between John and Erica with the Cylon CPUs was clear.

"If you're done talking with that thing, Major Adama needs to see you in the forward starboard landing deck," she told him, avoiding eye contact.

John nodded and stood. "We will have to continue this conversation later. But think about what I said, look at the data. Being lied to is embarrassing," and he held up his hand before RC-X894 could object and claim Cylons cannot be embarrassed, "but what is worse is refusing to acknowledge that lie and learn from it. Think it over." He turned and made his way to the hatch.

"By your command," The Cylon voice responded sarcastically.

John stopped and looked over his shoulder before continuing out. He'd been making progress. The Cylon had gone from one sentence answers a few months ago to sarcasm.

------New Caprica City (+230 Days Post Colonization, +520 Days Since Post Holocaust)------

Felix Gaeta pawed the tablet computer, cursing the device. Since resigning his commission a little over six months ago to serve as President Baltar's Chief of Staff he had been swamped with requests, petitions, plans, and what seemed like an ungodly amount of paperwork for 50,000 people.

"The apartment complexes are almost completed and we've been assigning rooms based on lottery and family status. We should get five hundred families into permanent homes soon. People with kids, that kind of thing," he said to Baltar, looking up. He rolled his eyes and he noticed Baltar staring out the window again. "Doctor," he called to him. Getting his attention he continued. "We just completed some new community washrooms in green sector, so the problems we were facing there shouldn't be an issue." He stopped as Baltar's attention again wandered out of his _Colonial One_ office suite.

Baltar shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Felix. I wasn't paying attention. Please go on."

_No Gaius, you weren't_ she said, appearing behind Gaeta. She leaned forward, bringing her face right next to Gaeta's cheek. _You need to stay focused Gaius. Keep the people happy and keep them warm and fed. Salvation should be here soon._

He had looked passed Gaeta and had fixed his eyes on the beautiful blond woman, pondering to himself if he were crazy for loving someone no one except him could even hear, let alone see. She stalked around Baltar's loyal chief of staff and positioned her body seductively on the edge of the desk.

"Uh… um, Felix. We need to make sure the people are comfortable here. Spring should be coming, but we need to prepare again for next winter," he suggested. "Are Chief Tyrol and his workers still Gods damn complaining?"

Gaeta looked up from his tablet and nodded a confirmation. "Some of them, a vocal minority though, feel that since they are building apartments they should also be included in the lottery."

"Yes, well, it is a priority to get children out of this dreary weather, and we can't have children living there without parents now can we?" He scoffed. He had abandoned his roots as a 'working man' long ago when he fled his father's farm on Aerelon. "There are fifty thousand people out there and they want special treatment?"

_Good Gaius, show leadership. Show them you are strong_ Six encouraged. She leaned down on her elbows in front of him. _Prove to me you are the man I love._

"They also want a shorter work day," Gaeta told him. Baltar rolled his eyes and sighed in disgust. "They work twelve hours. A lot of them want to just cut it gradually. Down to ten or so and they are saying that not enough of the other civilians are contributing."

Baltar laughed and ran his hands through his hair. "Fine. We will set aside fifty, fifty apartments for Chief Tyrol's ridiculous union. On the condition those apartments be occupied by a minimum of four people." He grabbed at some paper reports on his desk, hoping to distract his attention. Gaeta made a new e-note and mailed it over the city's rudimentary wireless network to Chief Tyrol.

"This network is convenient, Doctor," Gaeta complimented him. "I'm surprised the military let you implement it."

"Well, I am the President now, thank you," he sniped. "Sorry, that was rude of me Felix. I apologize. Yes, but you helped me build it. A month now and no big worries," he smiled.

_They don't suspect what you've built. Good Gaius. See, I told you Felix wouldn't be able to tell what you were building. A 'wireless network'… very clever of you._

Baltar noticed Gaeta writing on his tablet and he turned and whispered to his invisible Six. "I couldn't have done it without your help. Thank you," and the corner of his mouth came up in a small smile. She closed her eyes and smiled back at him.

_Later tonight, Gaius. You have more work to do. Concentrate on getting those fields and crops planted. I love you, Gaius,_ she said to him one last time before walking behind him and disappearing before he could turn to look at his love.

------BS-75 Galactica, in Orbit Over New Caprica City (+300 Days Post Colonization, +590 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"Raptor 2-3, take up positions behind Vipers," Captain Agathon ordered into his headset, preparing Raptor 2-3 to begin its monitoring and analysis programs. "Viper 9-7, you are cleared to test new systems when ready," he said.

"_Galactica, this is Kat. Drones are deployed_", came her excited voice over the wireless. A natural pilot with an utter love for the Vipers, she was elated to be testing out the new modified Mark VII.

Helo looked up into the DRADIS display over _Galactica_'s central command station. Commander Adama came up and stood next to him, he had to squint his eyes to focus on the DRADIS readouts.

The green blip designating Kat's Viper accelerated much more quickly than previous Mark VII's. She was able to catch the drone nearly fifteen percent faster than an unmodified Mark VII.

"_Whoo! Galactica, that was great!_" She yelled over the wireless. For her, being in one of the new Vipers and being able to throw all the power into the engines was a rush for her. _"Coming around to engage drones with test missiles on your mark, Galactica_.

The green blip came back around and headed towards Raptor 2-3, piloted by Racetrack and Crashdown. Once Kat had aligned herself with the Raptor she fired one of her missiles at extreme range, heading towards the drone.

"Let's see if those modifications they made to the missiles actually work," Commander Adama commented as the missile DRADIS blip moved closer to its drone target. The Raptor was actively jamming the missile.

The missile stayed on course, never once having to realign itself or veer off. It impacted the drone, thousands of tiny pieces were blasted away through space.

"Raptor 2-3 reports it was unsuccessful at jamming the missile," Helo reported to the Commander. "Should Kat test another?" He asked. He kept his arms folded as he centered himself under the DRADIS, running the numbers through his head on the speed and capabilities of the new missiles.

Commander Adama took off his glasses and placed them into his duty uniform chest pocket. "No," he said, sounding half defeated, "No, that's the seventh missile that's hit dead on."

"Seven out of seven," John Planck replied. "You almost sound defeated, Commander."

Commander Adama had been unaware Planck had entered C-I-C while he and Helo had been watching the DRADIS. A few of the C-I-C personnel shot Planck a distrustful glare. The Marine combat teams had expressed their concern to Commander Adama of allowing him in the C-I-C. When it came to security, he gave his senior NCOs permission to respectfully object to his orders.

The _Galactica_ commander walked up to John, and gently grabbed the back of his arm. The two walked back slowly to the central command station. "Why did you decide to build these now?" He looked up at Planck. "We could have used these a long time ago."

John didn't look down towards the Commander, but kept his blue eyes on the DRADIS console. Commander Adama thought he noted a small hint of illumination behind them, but if there was, it was extremely faint, like Planck wanted him to notice but not notice at the same time.

"You didn't trust us," he said, the four words ringing in Adama's ears.

Commander Adama's facial muscles didn't twitch, he kept his face as firm and even as he could. He didn't let his body betray what his mind was thinking. He realized then that this game had changed.

--------------------

Sharon Agathon, present for her bi-weekly trip to _Pegasus_ took a seat next to the computer monitor displaying Erica's personal avatar. It had changed from someone John had described as a 'business woman' to one much more relaxed, wearing an evening dress. It contrasted with the military green fatigues and brown tank top Sharon was wearing.

Opposite the two artificial constructs was a third, RC-X894-12-M-451. The Cylon AI had been given the privilege of controlling its own activity, free to keep itself active and watch what was happening in the science lab or put itself into standby mode. RC had grown accustomed to the chats he, as the AI identified itself, had been having with Erica and Sharon.

The conversation had been mainly a back and forth between Erica and RC-X894, trying to still convince him to join the Colonial cause. Both John and Erica considered him the one they had been making the most progress on. Of the other eleven, six were wavering, but five kept their loyalty to the Cylon race and refused to be reasoned with. If she could convince RC, who had been the Centurion commander of the platoon sent against the SAR team, she might be able to convince most of the others to join the Colonials.

"I still find the prospect of a Cylon Model 8 revolting against the leadership to be intriguing," he commented halfway through their small talk. "I was with the Model Six who tracked you to the barn during the experiment. You hid from us under a bridge. It was... 'amusing'… yes, is that the proper human word?"

"Amusing? It depends," Sharon responded to him, "what do you think is 'amusing'?"

"That the man you were with believed hiding on the ledge of that bridge would keep you from being detected," the voice from the speakers informed her. RC had begun to crackle the speakers more and more. John, Erica, and Sharon believed the Cylon to be laughing, or attempting to.

"Helo trusted me," she said.

"You lied to him," the Cylon responded. The computer image of his eye centered and stopped on her.

Sharon shifted in her seat and looked over her shoulder, keeping the hurt in her eyes from being witnessed by the Cylon. "I did. And it was wrong," her voice quivered.

"He shot you when he found out what you were."

"I hurt him. We, me and you, were responsible for twenty billion deaths." She raised her voice, "wouldn't you be pissed when the woman you love was responsible for that?" She grappled with her emotions, always aware of what she had been a part of. "I was a part of that genocide."

"Yet you are here now, with the Colonials. You have been corrupted by humanity against your race," RC noted. His voice sounded excited, almost desperate.

"I fled because what we did was more wrong than anything the Colonials could have done to us," Sharon confessed. "We were wrong and betrayed God's message. The true God. Not the one claiming to be God." She closed her eyes and breathed heavily for a few moments, holding back the tears as she replayed the moment Helo found out about her, the moment he shot her, but most importantly, the moment he had saved her from Starbuck shooting her in the museum. "My crimes were terrible. But I'm here now. They trust me. Humans can forgive, RC, they forgive." She looked around quickly, a slight panic began to come over her as she knew she couldn't hold back the tears beginning to form. "Excuse me," she stood up and turned back towards the hatch. Before she left she gave RC one last message. "Just remember that humans forgive, RC. They do that. And that's why I'm here. They've been hunted, but they'll forgive. They wont forget, but they'll forgive and let you earn the trust back."

The Cylon AI kept its optical scanner focused Sharon Agathon until she was out of site and began to process this new information.

------BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+325 Days Post Colonization, +615 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Major Adama focused on the DRADIS displays as two half-strength Viper squadrons screamed past _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ towards the targets Raptors had placed three thousand kilometers off the bows of the two battlestars.

"Keep pushing that fast Starbuck and you'll black out from the gees," he warned to her over the wireless. He moved positions from the central command consoles and stood behind Lt. Hoshi who had a full screen of Viper performance reading being transmitted back to _Pegasus_.

The new equipment John, Jo, and Carter had been able to build had surprised Major Adama. He wasn't exactly sure how they'd been able to do it, but Chief Tyrol, before heading down to the settlement, had explained it was basically just a novel way to apply the technology they already had. He and Peter Laid hadn't seen the potential, even with Laid being one of Caprica's top aerospace engineers, because sometimes the obvious isn't obvious until someone else points it out.

"_Hey Apollo,_" came the always joyful and distinct voice of Starbuck over the wireless, "_you definitely have to get yourself into one of these birds. Whatever those three did, it's great,_" she laughed.

He was glad his wife was happy. He'd taken a risk with her the one night after Baltar's dedication ceremony, and he was glad it had paid off. But he had felt horrible for months after what he had done to Dee. His had to snap out of his daydreaming when he heard someone go into line after line of cursing over the wireless.

Moving quickly to the DRADIS displays he saw one of the Vipers had kept the acceleration on too long, and with the increased output of the engines, had almost run into one of the other Vipers. "Hey watch it out there. Hot Dog, ease up on the acceleration and take it slow. You all need to get used to the new speed," he warned.

Admiral Cain had allowed much of the crew from the battlestars to take residence on the planet. However, she had mandated qualification for Viper and Raptor pilots must be maintained. Pilots had to train for at least three days a months. It wouldn't keep a pilot qualified back in the Colonies, but here, that really didn't matter.

"_Sorry sir, a bit out of practice,_" he apologized. He'd been recovering from a nasty flue infection for the past three weeks, and Jo Soto had just cleared him for duty. With Doc Cottle's time being taken up on the planet the medical duties for the fleet had fallen onto the cybernetic organism. Not many had been particularly happy at this, but relented after Major Adama and Starbuck had volunteered for the first pilot readiness physicals.

"Don't apologize to me, Hot Dog, just get it right. Learn from the mistakes," the Major assured him.

Lt. Hoshi motioned for his attention back at the engine readout consoles. "Sir, we're getting mild power spikes from Viper 7-8. Narcho's Viper, sir," he reported.

Major Adama flicked his wireless headset back to transmit. "Narcho, we're getting some fluctuation in your engines. Return to the barn and we'll take a look.[/i]" He walked backed over to Lt. Hoshi. They'd come a long way in trusting these machines, cybernetic organisms, with their vehicles. But mechanical modifications couldn't pose a backdoor like a CNP.

--------------------

Commander Adama watched the school children leave the makeshift school room. He ran his fingers over the sturdy walls, perfectly sanded and perfectly aligned. It had been built by machines, though he wasn't sure why Jo Soto and Carter Bishop had volunteered. And he wasn't exactly sure why Laura Roslin had allowed them to.

But it had earned the machines respect in the community. After almost a year of helping humans build buildings, lay down pipes and electrical wires, and build roads and public wash houses, the three were becoming more accepted by the population.

"They did a very fine job here, Laura," he said as he greeted her. "You have to admit that," he smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a discreet kiss.

She placed her hand on his chest and readily accepted his physical greeting. "Yeah, well. Think of the children," she laughed. "I wish you could get down to the planet more often, Bill," she whispered.

"Someone has to run the fleet," he replied quietly, giving her another kiss. They walked outside, trying to enjoy the weather. When they had arrived it had been pleasant. Not warm, but pleasant. And as quickly as the Colonials had embraced their new home the weather had changed, the skies had grayed, and cold had snapped away their warmth. Now after a long winter spring was coming.

The two began their walk down the market street, taking in the people and the smell of food cooking. The makeshift shops were bartering and trading everything from wood carvings to small furs and critters cut up and smoked. It was lunch time, so large crowds traditionally gathered.

"You say that every time," she playfully complained. "I know, it makes you happy," she said. Roslin brought her right hand to Adama's hand, his arm still around her waist as they walked, and caressed it slowly. She was happy and so was he. And with everything so calm they had been able to be more public in their relationship. Now that her position as president was a year gone by she felt as if a lead cloak had been lifted.


	18. Chapter 18

------New Caprica City (+360 Days Post Colonization, +650 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Gaius Baltar finished the last entry on his computer and brought the screen of his laptop down, powering down the device. He unplugged the last cable from its X4 data port and ran his hands through his hair.

_It's beautiful, Gaius_, the Six said, admiring his work. The device in the back stateroom of his private suite on _Colonial One_ was filled with equipment, computers, and communication gear. He had worked diligently to complete his task. _Have you activated it yet?_ She asked.

"Yes. Four weeks ago, just like you told me to, remember? It'll progressively degrade their link. They'll think it is EM from the nebula," he smiled, rising out of his chair and walking over to where the beautiful Six stood. She had her red dress on, the one she had seduced him and earned his love in.

_I'm just admiring your work, Gaius. Come, look. The key to it all_. She stood over something he couldn't make out, not at the late hour.

He cocked his head, the night was out in force, and the lights inside his cabin had dimmed. He'd been up for forty hours already, dealing with Chief Tyrol threatening to strike and part of the crop land that was cleared had flooded. Now he had thought he could sleep. But his lover in her gorgeous red dress beckoned for him to come over.

Baltar brought his glasses up and took a quick look. Intrigued, he moved closer. "I don't remember this," he said to the Six, perplexed. He knelt down on the warm cabin floor and crossed his legs. He began to run his fingers over the box, small transmission lines running from the box into his jumble of electronics he called a "terminator jammer."

_It's the work of God, Gaius,_ she informed him. _He works through you._

He snickered at her comment and she moved back behind him, upset over his mockery of her faith. Even after two years together she would always talk of God with Baltar, an atheist who believed in no God or Gods.

"I seriously doubt that," he countered her, bringing the box closer to inspect it. He groaned as he got back up to his feet and flicked the lights of his cabin on. Moving back to where Six pointed out the device he sat back down. "I don't recognize it. "

_Look closer Gaius_ she said, bending down and whispering seductively in his ear. _Remember when you built it? This is the key to it all. That tiny device. Just like a human heart is the key to salvation, Gaius_.

"No, I don't remember," he answered. He ran his hands down the wires and around the jamming device. The wires converged in an adapter plugged into the main communication switch.

_I do,_ Six moved off the bed and stood over him. She bent down and sat crossed-legged on the floor next to him. _You were with me and we were working on this together. Last month. It was the last piece Gaeta delivered. He delivered the mother board. You added a communication card and modified the board, right back there,_ and she pointed to his work station, cluttered with electronics, papers, and soldering equipment. _I helped steady your hands that night. The Quorum had upset you, remember?_ Six grabbed his hands and held them gently in her. She moved her thumbs up and down the sides of his hands, comforting him.

Baltar shook his head, trying to retrieve the image, trying to remember when he had built it. He couldn't remember exactly, but he had spent so many nights at his work station, building the jammer or building the transmitters for their wireless network in the city or just tinkering with electronics and computers.

"I… I think so," he stammered after a long silence. "I don't know. It's just been so… busy. You keep pushing me to do more and more. I don't know if I can keep up," he confessed to her, sadness in his eyes as he disappointed the woman he loved. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes narrowed and she moved herself closer to him. She brought his head into her chest. _Gaius, I love you. I want you to be a success and lead your people. You can't do that while they're here. You can let Admiral Cain know you've completed your project. She will love you for it._ She held the side of his face in her hands, looking him lovingly in the eyes. _She will be in your debt, Gaius. And the people here will love you._

"If we want to be discreet, it will still take weeks to degrade their signals without alarming them," he looked up at her. "And it'll only work on the planet. The battlestars are shielded against EM," he reminded her through a deep yawn.  
_Gaius. Don't worry. You will know what to do when the time comes to act. Just tell Admiral Cain tomorrow and tell her to get ready,_ she reached and caressed his cheek. _Now, my love, it's time to sleep_.

His eyes closed and he leaned into her. His kind smile brought a quick tear to her eye. She eased him down as he began to fall asleep, not wishing to wake him. She laid next to him on the cabin's deck, making sure he was asleep before disappearing yet again.

------ (+378 Days Post Colonization, +668 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Jo Soto had joined two squads on Colonial Marines for their monthly training sessions. Even after a year past colonization, and nearly twenty months since the last Cylon sighting, few Marines still wished to participate in the training session Admiral Cain had made very clear would still continue.

Jo was an observer, having volunteered to be a 'referee' for the mock battle between the two Marine squads.

She watched as one Marine squad began to make its way slowly to where the second squad was hidden. Both were visible on her thermal imaging. She noted that the Colonials were training today without use of thermal goggles on insistence from Gunny Mathias, who tried to keep the dependence on technology to a minimum. The Gunny was hardly one to rant against new weapons of war. She and Jo Soto had had interesting discussions on new weapons which were in development before the Colonies fell, and on new 'toys' the Marines would have received. Her insistence on training without thermal goggles or optical visors or electronic maps was to keep the Marines sharp. She didn't want her Marines becoming dependent on something and it breaking in the field.

The most advanced killing machine Earth humans had created went back to concentrating on the training exercise when dozens upon dozens of sonic booms erupted from the atmosphere.

-------------------  
Admiral Cain was not the type of sailor to dislike the ground and planets. She loved planets. She loved Tauron and Caprica. But she hated New Caprica. She avoided this planet as much as she could. It was cold, the city had a bad smell to it, and it was noisy. It wasn't the dull hum one could hear on a battlestar from the reactors and bustle of the crew. It was a loud noise filled with hundreds of different pitches and tones from the mouths of hundreds and thousands of people.

Unfortunately she had been called down to the planet by President Baltar. He had informed her a little under three weeks ago about his plans to take down the Terminators. The first one, Jo Soto, to be destroyed was in the forest, practicing maneuvers with the Marines. He hadn't gone into much detail.

Cain stepped off of her Raptor onto the soggy ground. Spring rains had brought moderate flooding to some parts of the city, overwhelming the nascent sewer system. She and her Marine escort quickly made their way into _Colonial One_ where President Baltar greeted her.

"President Baltar," she said, nodding her greetings. "I take it you have an update for me on our situation?"

_Say exactly what I say, Gaius,_ Six told him, appearing from his cabin wearing a blue dress with slits coming up the side to her upper thigh. His eyes followed her as she walked around and behind Cain before she came back around to his side. _I activated the jamming device a little over two months ago to degrade their signals-_ she began.

"I activated the device a little over two months ago to degrade their signals-" he repeated.

_And I believe that it would be safe to give attack orders. I have three people in the forest trailing Soto with rocket launchers._

He shot a look towards Six. She moved for him to repeat what she had said. "But that's not true," he whispered so quietly, and barely moving his mouth Admiral Cain couldn't tell.

_Trust me, Gaius!_ Six yelled.

"I have uh… people in the forest, they have shoulder missile launchers. They're trailing… the female one. Soto," he lied to Cain.

"Missile launchers? I wasn't aware that Commander Adama or myself authorized missile launchers, Mr. President," Admniral Cain questioned.

"Well, I am the president, thank you, Admiral, " he shot back. He didn't want her assuming she had authority over him.

_Excellent, Gaius. You are the president, not her_.

"Yes, thank you," he smiled and said. Cain wasn't sure who he spoke to but he quicjkly recovered. "Yes, thank you very much for your concern but since I am the president I do need to do things without informing everyone. This was very hush hush, need to know. But once she is dead then we need to get the other two down here."

Admiral Cain starred at him for a moment bringing her hands up to his chin in thought. She kept her other hand on her pistol grip, tapping her fingers on it. "I wish you had told me, Mr. President. While I… appreciate all the help you have given-"

_This was only possible with you, Gaius. Tell her that_ the Six goaded him. She had moved opposite Cain and was staring at her up and down, disgusted with how Admiral Cain was treat her love.

"Admiral, this whole thing was only possible with me," he interrupted, the cockiness in his voice not lost on the Admiral. "All the technology I built and designed. The equipment I put together. No one else could have done this."

"And that's why it took a year?" She asked him, rolling his eyes. She had put up with the man's insecurities and egocentrism for a year as president, and for months before that. This was unpleasant. But she didn't make flag officer by holding anything back.

_Patience!_ Six yelled at him.

"Patience!" He yelled at the Admiral. Baltar had been disrespected since the first day he joined the Fleet. He had been Caprica's greatest scientist since Daniel Greystone, and he was growing more and more tired of people underestimating his abilities.

Admiral Cain just sighed and was in the middle of preparing to argue when dozens and dozens of sonic booms were heard over the city.

Felix Gaeta rushed in. "Doctor Baltar! The Cylons! They've found us! The fleet is jumping away sir! They're gone! The Cylons… they found us!"

The distinct sound of Cylon Raiders and Heavy Raider transports were heard as hundreds and hundreds of craft swooped over New Caprica City. There was no resistance. No one was screaming the streets. The formations were not combat formations. They were victory formations.

-------------------

Admiral Cain, President Baltar, Felix Gaeta, Tome Zarek and half a dozen other government officials could hear the metallic footsteps of the Centurions as they entered _Colonial One_.

"This is a mistake, Baltar," Admiral Cain said one last time. She purposefully dropped the honorific title. The disgust and disappointment burned like fire from her gut and into her words. She leaned forward and whispered. "You will _never_ be forgiven for this, Doctor," she spat.

When the Raiders had come, he had done nothing. She had watched him go back and slouch in his leather chair behind his oak desk. He did nothing. Admiral Cain knew the situation was hopeless. The battlestars and fleet had jumped. Heavy Raiders began landing Centurions. She knew she had to act quickly, her military mind reacting faster than the clouded and soft mind of Gaius Fraking Baltar.

She had ordered the armories aboard all the vessels immediately emptied. Hundreds of rifles, pistols, thousands of rounds of ammunitions, grenades, explosives, all had been taken by Colonial crews from _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ and hidden throughout the city within minutes. She had run out of _Colonial One_ with Colonel Tigh, Chief Tyrol, and Col Garner already running up to the presidential ship. They had dozens of men with them. Cain had recognized them as former Caprican resistance fighters, like Sam Anders, or Marines and sailors from the battlestars. She had ordered them to empty those armories and they had their stash of weapons now hidden.

Thirty minutes ago the sonic booms had been heard. Fifteen minutes ago Centurions had begun landing. She couldn't see them, but hundreds were marching down Colonial Avenue, street where the main market and school were. And the street that led to the ship landing yards.

"You will pay for this," she added in one final time as the door to the Quorum chamber opened, outside the office of the president. They could see the light from the corridor beyond come into the room. Two metallic Centurions entered, their ominous forms filling the sides of the doorway from the Quorum room to Baltar's office.

Behind them four Cylons entered. Two Sixes, an Eight, and a Five appeared, cocky and proud of their final victory over their Colonial nemesis.

President Baltar steading himself on the desk began to open his mouth, closing it when no words would come out. The Cylons stood opposite him, waiting for him to say the words. Their icy and soulless stare never wandered. They stood, waiting. Finally, his jaw began to function and he summoned the little strength he had left and looked the Six, Caprica Six, in the eye.

"We unconditionally surrender," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

------BS-75 Galactica (+380 Days Post Colonization, +470 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)---

Commander Adama sat in his quarters, a glass of whiskey on his desk. He picked up the glass and swirled the warm liquid around for the hundredth time that night. This was the first time he'd been back to his quarters since he ordered the retreat from New Caprica and since he left forty-four thousand people alone on that planet.

He brought the glass back up to his eye level. He hadn't had a drink yet. Adama kept bringing it up to his eye level but always put it back down. The Commander had only begun to fully comprehend what he had been forced to do.

He had been walking through the command deck, buried deep within the belly of the battlestar, making his way to the C-I-C. He stopped briefly to inspect the decay of his vessel, the lights flickering with no one to change them. The once loud and vibrant corridors had once made the ship home and now they were deserted and quiet. There was nothing.

The Old Man gently grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle and pulled it closer. He starred into the brown-red liquid. He could see himself walking into C-I-C slowly, taking his time. There was no rush, he had remembered. Why rush?

Captain Agathon had greeted him. He'd been promoted to Captain only a month ago after Colonel Tigh joined his wife on the planet. There were ten other people in C-I-C, even the graveyard watch had twenty. He'd been used to seeing nearly forty people look up and nod their greeting to him when he had entered.

He saw himself walking towards the DRADIS displays. Nothing. He'd turned and begun to converse with Helo, asking about his daughter, what the Viper and Raptor training schedules were, how much ore the tyllium refineries had processed. Nothing important.

Then he'd heard a beep. Then a second and a third. Then nothing. The wireless sounded. Major Adama, his only surviving son, was calling him on an emergency wireless signal. He picked up as dozens of red enemy signals appeared on DRADIS.

"_Dad, I don't know how. But by Gods they found us. There's an entire Cylon fleet out there! We have to jump!_" He shouted towards his father.

"I wont jump the fleet!" He swore back towards his son, disgusted by the cowardice. "We have people on the ground!"

Major Adama didn't respond immediately. Commander Adama realized he'd been wrong to yell like that at his son now, while he held the whiskey bottle.

"_We just got to action stations, Commander. We only have a handful of Viper pilots. We don't stand a chance! We have to jump… dad. We have to jump._" His son pleaded.

The Old Man wouldn't accept it. He wouldn't leave the people on the ground. He couldn't leave her, Laura to the Cylons.

"Get me the Admiral!" he snapped over the wireless.

"_Gods… she's on the ground dad! No Raptors are in the air. We have to jump. We'll be back for them, we have to jump!"_

Commander Adama looked around the C-I-C. The faces of his crew stood waiting. Helo was over the FTL console, ready to jump as soon as the commander gave the word. Everyone was frozen. The Old Man put the wireless to his chest and looked up at the DRADIS. Fifteen baseships. Four hundred Raiders. Suicide.

"We'll be back. Jump, Lee." He put down the wireless and turned to Helo. "Captain," he yelled, "send emergency jump coordinates! We'll be back. We'll be back."

And the fleet jumped.

------BS-75 Galactica (+382 Days Post Colonization, +472 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The crew of _Galactica_ had never faced a morale crisis like they had the past two weeks. They had fled and left stranded forty-four thousand of their fellow men and woman to be at the mercy of the Cylons. Recon Raptors had reported eight baseships still orbiting the planet.

"We can't go back for them, dad," Major Adama said to his father, who had said little during their briefing by Racetrack and Crashdown. "Eight baseships, we can't go up against that," he said, defeated.

His wife looked at him, not believing what she was hearing. "Lee, we have to. Commander," she redirected towards the Old Man, "We can't just leave them on the planet. We need to figure out a way to get to them," Starbuck insisted. She'd changed her stance and shifted her weight forward, throwing her hands on her hips. "There's so many down there, we just can't leave them," she said quietly and to no one in particular.

The emotions in the room were running high. Captain Shaw had been on the verge of mutiny when Major Adama ordered her to jump, and had initially refused to abandon the Admiral down there. Helo sat back, trying to think of the right thing to do. He knew they needed to survive, as a species. But resigning tens of thousands to their deaths was not something he could tolerate.

"Starbuck's right, Commander," he said, looking up at her. He looked towards Apollo, letting his eyes apologize for going against his friend. "We can't leave them there. If we fled the fleet would be torn apart. We'd lose ourselves. We'd die a slow death."

The only two who had not spoken or expressed any emotion were the two cybernetic organisms. They knew the odds, going back would be suicide and there was no way for two battlestars with barely a quarter of their crews to fight against eight baseships. Or more, if more were in the nebula or in jump range.

"How did they find us?" Commander Adama asked. He was quiet and reserved as usual, but Major Adama could sense his father was on the verge of defeat. "We had Raptors scanning into the nebula. They couldn't detect anything. This wasn't chance."

Captain Shaw took the opportunity to clear her throat. She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Sir, I'll come out and say what I'm sure a lot of the crew is thinking. They did it," she nodded with her hear towards John and Carter. "They sabotaged the ships or got a signal to the Cylons."

John didn't look towards her, but Carter narrowed his eyes. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to kill her. John noticed his friend's slight movement. John new the urge to kill was as natural to him and Carter as sleeping was to a human.

Starbuck came quickly up to Captain Shaw and dismissed her assertion. "No, I don't believe it. They had plenty of time to frak us over. They could've killed us before we jumped, they didn't." She about faced to talk directly to the Old Man. "Sir, that's complete fraking nonsense. You know that." Her eyes were wide and mouth open, ready to snap if anyone disagreed with her.

Helo defended his friends as well. "They wouldn't betray us, sir," he said. "Just like Sharon, they've earned my trust," he affirmed.

"Starbuck-" Apollo began before Commander Adama held up his hand.

Commander Adama slowly laid his hand back down on his lap and stood. He pulled his tunic down. "I don't believe they sabotaged us, Captain," he said quietly. The quick glance he gave to Captain Shaw could melt the armor off the side of a battlestar. "But someone did." He walked out from behind his desk to take a position in front, closer to those he had a duty to lead.

He didn't say anything for what seemed like minutes. But he looked over all the Colonial officers and former officers in his quarters. He was confident in the future.

"I haven't been here the last two days. I've failed leading you. The first day, the first twenty-four hours are crucial. In this crisis, I failed you," he admitted. He kept his eye contact with everyone in the room. "We did _not_ fail the people are New Caprica. And we will not fail them. We will rescue them. Starbuck, Shaw, Helo, I want the three of you to begin immediate work on a plan to rescue everyone, everyone on New Caprica. Apollo, you need to organize the fleet, we need people to help us. We need to know who is in the fleet, who is trained for what. That's your job. Carter, John," he turned to the two, "Everything you can do. This is a desperate time. Any modification or improvement to our weapons, systems, anything I want you two to draw up a list and tell me as soon as possible.  
"We lost a lot the last week. But we thought we were defeated once before. We rallied at Ragnor. We'll do it again. Dismissed."

The men and women shot to attention. Their confidence elevated they knew they couldn't fail. Commander Adama would lead them to victory.

------New Caprica City (+35 Days Cylon Occupation, +703 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"You ready?" Anders asked, cradling the C7 explosives in his arms. He ducked behind a large shipping container as a Model 007 Cylon stalked by, finishing its patrol. "We gotta plant this now before the HR lands."

Jo Soto held herself steady behind the containers, extending her hand to take the explosives. "Give me the explosives. You should not be here," he stated. "This is too dangerous."

Anders laughed, dismissing her concern for him. He checked over the last wires on the explosives, enough to take out a heavy raider and half the hanger.

He changed positions, jumping onto his heels and crouching as he finished checking the connections and detonator. The drab concrete landing bay would soon be the latest structure introduced to the bombs of the resistance.

"Give me the explosives," she demanded. "My scanners indicate they'll be here within thirty seconds. Give me the explosives, now."

There was no apprehension in her voice, no nervousness. Anders just looked at her for a moment, not believing that a cold killing machine was behind such a beautiful face. He slowly came back and cautiously handed her the makeshift bomb. She stood up and calmly walked over to the pylon, placing the bomb out of site.

Anders could heard the loud whine of the heavy raider repulsors active as it came down into hover fifty meters above the complex.

The former Pyramid player had stood up and was peeping over the supply containers, watching her set up the bomb with a cool and calm precision. She was methodical, fluid in her movements, not hurried and rushed like he and Tyrol had been on the bombing at the sanitation plant. The cybernetic organism looked up, motioning with her hand for him to get down. She stood and walked back to the containers and crates which would shield them from the explosion.

He was glad she had come out to help him with this bombing, it was fairly high profile. To get so many skinjobs. No one knew she had come down to the planet for the Marine training mission, but she wasn't exactly unknown in the fleet. The resistance had insisted she stay in the caverns and move around at night, or if going to do a job. And she was forced to wear heavy clothing to conceal her identity and face.

Three bio-Cylons, a Six and two Fours were heard as their shoes and high heels echoed on the gray concrete. The bomb, safely hidden, would be their surprise.

The whine of the heavy raider engines intensified as it entered the landing bay before slowly dimming. The engines cut off. The landing ramp was lowered.

Jo could hear their conversation perfectly, her motion detectors placing the bio-Cylons at the rear of the craft. They began to move forward, closer to the bomb. She held up her hand to signal Anders. The Cylons moved closer and she balled her hand into a fist. Anders pressed the detonator and the explosion tore through the bodies of the bio-Cylons and the smell of death and burned flesh washed over the two resistance fighters.

--------------------

The two resistance fighters walked casually down one of the side streets of New Caprica City, the sirens and alarms still blaring at the landing bays. They had temporarily killed eight bio-Cylons and destroyed a heavy raider. For Anders, it had not been a bad mission at all. He knew the bio-Cylons couldn't die, they'd resurrect, but he knew they still felt pain.

He glanced over to Soto who casually walked next to him, glancing back occasionally towards the landing bays.

"Soto, if you keep looking back they'll suspect us," he hissed. She re-directed her attention to him and he could feel her cold eyes looking at him. "What?"

"Is it more suspicious to look at the building on fire or to pretend nothing is wrong and just walk away?"

"What?" He hissed. "What are you talking about?"

She didn't respond. He thought he had gotten over his unease with her being around this last month, since the fleet had to jump away. Anders had been friendly towards the three machines, but never spent any time with them. Now Soto had implanted herself in the resistance and he and she were forced to work side by side much more than he was comfortable with.

"You're nervous," she pointed out. He grunted and looked away from her.

"Not all of us can just turn it on and off," he spat. He opened his mouth again to speak, closing it. He wanted to apologize but couldn't bring himself to do it. Not with the Cylons here. She was still a machine.

------New Caprica City (+45 Cylon Occupation, +713 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Admiral Helena Cain sat straight, her back pressed against the cold and hard metallic back of the chair. The light had been on for hours, maybe days. She wasn't sure. Time was irrelevant in her holding cell.

She had long since shut out the pain of the large bore IV needle sticking into her arm, feeding her intravenously after she refused to eat for weeks.

Within hours of President Gaius Fraking Baltar's surrender she'd been 'arrested' by the Cylons and imprisoned. They'd moved her to her new holding cell, she guessed, maybe two weeks after. She did concede the Cylons were quick. They'd converted the apartment buildings into holding facilities with wet, cold, and dreary concrete walls. Water leaked from the sewage pipes running through her cell and the stench of foul water was suffocating. It was like a swamp in her cells.

The Admiral knew she wouldn't be allowed to live. The Cylons knew she would organize a resistance the moment she set foot outside the prison. She was here, to live the rest of her life. And she had given up hope of Commander Adama and his son coming back for them.

She didn't scream as the Six and the One cut into her arm, employing crude methods of torture today. They had held something in her ear during the last torture session, the pain had been excruciating and she had broken. That was the first day she had screamed. But after they had broken her they had made her even stronger.

The embarrassment from screaming, giving into their wishes, to see her break had been enough for her. She rebuilt her defenses and her lip bled and she bit into it, refusing to give the Cylons what they wanted.

The Six smashed her little finger but got nothing more than a wince from Helena Cain.

"Where is the fleet, Admiral?" The model Number One, a 'Brother Cavil' asked. "What is the plan if you had to run?" He asked again, running the knife up her arm with enough pressure for her to feel the sharp blade, but not enough to cut into her skin.

The Number One drove the knife into her shoulder. She bit down harder on her lip, tasting the blood in her mouth as it gushed into her mouth.

"This is useless. We should just kill her," the Six said. She brought up her knife and wiped the blood on Cain's pant leg. The Six looked up at her, a smile fo pure evil on her face. "Let's kill her," she said.

Cain snarled, her lip flinched to speak and she yelled "Frak you!"

The Six looked at her, tilting her head. Again the smile, the seductively evil smile appeared. "You're not my type," she said, and Cain's world went black.

--------------------

Colonel Tigh lay on the floor, curled up against the hard concrete walls, using his fingernail to make a new hash mark on the wall. Another day gone in detention and another interrogation session had just ended.

He lay on the floor, his cell cold and barren, the only piece of furniture a bucket for waste. In the far corner was old, rotten food he had thrown against the cell walls in defiance of his torturers.

His body hadn't been broken, nothing was different except for some small scabs and cuts from trying to fight agains the Centurions when they came and grabbed him from his cell.

For him, the Cylon interrogators, switching between a Two and an One, just had to place some strange metal rod with a lighted ball in the end into his ear. The pain had been excruciating.

They told him only Admiral Cain had been the only one to resist screaming, much like him. The two had told him he should feel proud for resisting as long as he had. But he wouldn't hold out forever. Because Admiral Cain had broken. He remembered that they had just told him she hadn't. But she had. Colonel Tigh knew they were playing tricks on him, mind games.

He finished his last hash mark. Twenty-three… he thought he had been there longer. He let his body relax as he placed his head on the cold concrete, thinking of his wife, Ellen. He wanted to see her, be with her.

------BS-62 Pegasus (+45 Days Cylon Occupation, +713 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Major Adama descended the ladder into the port hanger pod quickly, his wife right in front of him. He and Starbuck had been excited at the new stealth Viper being built by Carter Bishop and Chief Laird. Since Carter never slept and could lift and fit every part of the new Blackbird Viper by himself, he had been able to complete three of the little stealth craft already.

"She's beautiful, isn't she Lee?" Starbuck asked him, turning around and walking backward as they neared the completed ships. "Peter and Carter modified the designs a bit, the cockpit isn't as far back and there's an internal missile bay," she smiled. She turned back and began her inspection of the three new toys she had to play with as CAG of _Pegasus_.

The Major stepped up opposite Chief Laird and Bishop, placing his hands on his hips he inspected the finished product. "It looks good, congratulations," he said, extending his hand.

Chief Laird wiped the grease onto his orange deck coveralls and shook the Major's hand. The Major ignored Carter standing on the other side of Laird and instead bent down to inspect the undercarriage of the Viper. "Recessed missile bays?" He asked.

Laird bent down next to him as Carter began putting away tools and preparing for the next Viper they were going to build. "Yup, they can hold two missiles. Carter over there was able to build something, I don't know how, sir, but some alloy encasing the missile bay. It'll block radiation signals."

Major Adama stood up and Starbuck came over when she heard this. "It can block radiation signatures? So no radiological alarms?"

Carter stepped closer to them, placing the last tool on the work cart. "No radiological alarms until you open the bay doors, Major," he said. "With modification to the missiles you can fire these at the baseship and jump away. Inside their defense perimeter they wont be able to intercept. And we have enough alloy shielding for three more Vipers," he surprised them.

Apollo's eyes widened and Starbuck's smiled widened even further and she took Apollo's hand in hers. "I think this just might work," she said, leaning into him.

--------------------

Commander Adama was considered by many in the fleet to be the last hope for the people of New Caprica. He had met with hundreds of people aboard _Cloud 9_ a week after their embarrassing retreat. Commander Adama couldn't remember the last time the two battlestars engaged in war games or actual maneuvers. Admiral Cain had insisted the pilots and crews still maintain some readiness level, but after a year even that training program had begun to decline.

The commander was now forced to do what he had pledged never to do. He and two Marines with armor piercing rounds loaded into their rifles stalked into the dorsal starboard landing bay. Commander Adama swept his access ID badge and the magnetic locks to the secured bay disengaged.

He stepped inside, the two Marines hiding their apprehension and nervousness as much as the commander. He admired the two men for their strength. Corporal Alex Davies and Sergeant Richard Hudson were only twenty-two years old, but they had proven themselves in combat. Hudson had been on the Guardian baseship during the SAR mission and had performed spectacularly, earning advancement to sergeant.

They locked and sealed the hatch behind them. In front of them was John Planck, meticulously working at a computer console. Commander Adama knew that he knew they were there, if not from the sound of the hatch but due to the motion detectors present inside that metal body.

The Commander and Major had been briefed by John and Carter on their capabilities, including all sensory and scanning equipment, and including the entire capabilities of the link. They'd claimed it only transmitted something similar to an IFF, which was how they had identified the friendly Raider from the first Guardian baseship, but now he knew just how in depth that wireless link was. And he knew of the liquid metal running through their chassis.

He and the two Marines stopped a few meters from him and Adama stood there, waiting for Planck to finish his work at the computer.

"It's done, sir," the machine covered in flesh informed him. "We're ready to re-active them on your orders."

John Planck stood and walked towards the commander, taking a position on his right. Adama nodded and John pressed the activation switches.

On the opposite side of the hanger bay half a dozen red optical scanners activated, pulsating left and right. The hum of their optics could be heard in the empty flight pod. One of the Model 007 Centurions stepped forward, its metal body having been repaired and its weapons removed from its arm.

It tilted it's head. RC-X894 was printed across its left breast plate to identify the Centurion. A bright gold battlestar emblem was on the right breast plate and the shoulder armor was painted in red. "Centurion forces active. By your command, Commander," he said, the red orb stopping and centered on the Commander.

------New Caprica City (+84 Days Cylon Occupation, +752 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Sam Anders, Chief Tyrol, Dee, and Charlie Connor had seen the sight a dozen times in the last three months. But each time it was sickening to them. Jo Soto had finished her surveillance of the city and had cut a small semi-circle into her scalp. Sometimes Anders or Dee would take the knife and cut right above her data port, but tonight no one was willing to help.

She had seen their unwillingness and decided against asking, hoping not to raise the already elevated tensions.

"I still don't think we can trust her," Charlie Connor hissed to Sam Anders. The two had been together on Caprica, fighting the Cylons. "You were on Caprica, you saw what's under there," he held out his hand, pointing towards Soto who was busy downloading the images and videos she had taken into the computer. "She has a fraking wire stuck in her head!"

Dee quieted him with a quick shush. "Unless you can get the kinds of intel she can then you need to shut your fraking mouth, Charlie," she warned. She brought her hand over her throat and motioned like she was cutting it, keeping Charlie quiet when he was about to protest again.

"You done yet, Jo?" Anders called over. Charlie Connor hit him in the shoulder for using her first name. Anders brushed him aside and walked towards the computer console.

The secret resistance base was hidden under ground, in a system of caverns the Colonials had discovered early during the settlement. Admiral Cain and Commander Adama had stock the caves with rations and guns and communications gear, ready for contingencies.

"I've been done. But you all were complaining about me," she said. She grabbed and pulled the red cord out of her data port. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she brought up surveillance images of the main detention, administration, and power generation facilities.

"I was able to observe their patrols, and I created an interactive map showing their patrol routes through the city. The landing bays are too heavily guarded now. But I think we could distract them by setting off bombs in the water treatment facility in the evening." She keyed up the treatment facility and laid out the Centurion patrol routes.

The resistance had decided to leave some targets alone, hoping the Cylons would pull Centurions from less high profile targets such as the water treatment facility and waste disposal centers and instead focus on the main detention and administration complex.

"This is hopeless, those patrol path are random," Charlie pointed out. "They still have half a dozen outside the water treatment plant." His son had been killed the week prior in a New Caprica Police raid. He wanted blood, but he was on the verge of personal self-defeat. His voice had been filled with energy and hate when he spoke of the Cylons or Soto, anything non-organic, but if he couldn't kill anything the energy disappeared.

"They're designed to appear random," Soto pointed out. "But they're not. Random patrol paths have a statistically significant chance of failure to patrol certain locations, but since it is random one would assume the area would be patrolled eventually." She ran her fingers across the keys and highlighted the pattern to the Centurion patrols. "SkyNet did the same thing on Earth early in the war. It sent T-1s and T-400s on patrols which appeared random to the human resistance. But their leadership quickly caught on and was able to avoid or ambush patrols until SkyNet adapted." She hoped the history lesson would relate.

Anders thanked her for explaining. "So do you know a way in?" He asked, bringing the discussion back on topic.

"We need to get someone in there, set a bomb for morning," Charlie said. "Set it for 0800. That's when the most skinjobs are there. Usually fifteen or so. Set it in the main facility, we could easily take out a dozen. And maybe a few-" he was cut off by Soto.

"Morning is unacceptable," Soto interjected. She had stopped typing and was looking at Charlie with a cold, empty stare. Charlie Connor didn't notice at first, until he felt her eyes on him.

"What are you looking at?" He snapped at her.

"Morning is unacceptable," she repeated. "You need to change the timer to detonate between 0100 and 0700."

Charlie snorted in disgust. "I was against letting her in on these meetings, but Gods damnit Anders, I'm not going to have a machine telling me how to fight against machines," he annunciated each word slowly, looking down at the machine in front of the computer. The dim light and bright computer screen lit up her face, but Charlie could see no light behind the eyes. "Look at them… look into their eyes and you see nothing but metal." He glared at her, daring her to react.

"Charlies, Gods' damnit!" Dee cursed at him. "We're on the same fraking side here, so cool it," she ordered. Dualla saw Charlie wasn't going to back down. "Sam!" She yelled, getting his attention. "Tell him to stand down," she said again.

Sam Anders moved from Soto's right side to her left, placing his hand on Charlie Connor's shoulder. "Hey man, come on. Let's just calm down for a second. See why she doesn't want to bomb the place at oh-eight. Okay?" Charlie relented and nodded. Anders gave him a friendly slap on the back before returning back to his previous position. "Okay, Jo, instead of just saying no, tell us why." He waited three second before adding in, "Please."

"You cannot bomb them because there are a high amount of civilian workers, Colonials, who will be in the plant at 0800. You would end up killing or hurting dozens."

"They're collaborators," Charlie shot back at her. Anders and Tyrol nodded their support for him. Dualla objected. "I'm sure there are collaborators with Sky… whatever it is, on Earth," he added in a moment later.

"That is correct. There are. Grays. However their collaboration is far worse than working in a water treatment facility. They actively aide SkyNet against humanity and free machines and their collaboration is of no benefit to humanity or free machines. The people working in the treatment facility are not working to aide the Cylons. They are working to provide clean water to drink and bathe and cook with for their fellow citizens." She stood up from her chair, her psychological subroutines indicating it would be a good moment to stand to get support for her position. "They are in a hopeless situation. Providing clean water for everyone is not a crime. The NCP are collaborators. We'd classify them as Grays on Earth, not the Colonials in the water facility."

"Charlie, she's right," Tyrol said. "If we go down that path… we need to minimize human casualties. We wont not go through with it, but we'll distract them whether we bomb at oh-eight or oh-one." He looked sympathetically towards his friend. Tyrol would hate to look Nickie and he couldn't imagine how hard it was for Charlie after Kevin's death.

Charlie threw up his hands, disgusted that a machine would be lecturing him. "This is ridiculous. Look at her. On the outside, as pretty as a picture," he said, bringing his fingers and outlining her in the air, "but under all that pretty exterior is a very scary robot than will just fraking kill. That's what they're designed to do. Kill things. And we're here taking suggestions from it?" He stepped back and just grunted in defeated. He tossed up his hand, pointing at her and the others. "Whatever. If you want to listen to her, fine. Whatever." He shrugged and stepped back into one of the dark corners of the cavern. "Fine." And he sat down, defeated.

------BS-62 Galactica (+100 Days Cylon Occupation, +768 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Commander Adama took another ship of tea and placed his glass down next to Sharon's. He had wondered, at first, why he came and talked with her so often. Something inside of him always told him that this woman had shot him, but he was always able to bury that feeling. A woman like her had shot him and betrayed the fleet. But this woman sitting in front of him had saved the fleet before.

"Why do you think the Cylons hate us?" He asked her, his voice low and comforting. "Do you think John was right about them?"

Sharon Agathon had stopped identifying herself as a Cylon long ago. Commander Adama had freed Sharon after the SAR mission on Caprica, earning his trust and he had stopped referring to Cylons as 'your people' and instead called the Cylons 'them' in her presence. She had still be calling them 'her people' during this conversations until one day she realized Adama wasn't. It had touched Sharon Agathon's heart and she drew herself closer to humanity as a result of Adama's kindness towards her.

"If he was, do you think I'm here because I want to be, or because I'm an infiltrator?" She asked. "There's still a lot he doesn't know about SkyNet's influence, but I feel like I want to be here. I don't want to be with the Cylons," she confessed to him.

He took another sip of tea before pouring another glass for him and Sharon. "I think you do, Sharon."

"If only the Sharon from a year and a half ago could see this," she smiled at him. He kept starring down at the tea cup in his hands. "The Cylons never learned how to forgive, Commander. I'm here because I think, I hope you and Helo and everyone else here has forgiven me for what I did. And for what I was a part of."

Commander Adama turned and to look at her. He no longer saw Boomer there, not even for a moment. He saw a new woman who had had leanred to trust over the last year. He got up to his feet and leaned over to Sharon, holding the side of her head in his hands and giving her a fatherly kiss on the forehead.

"I think we can all learn to forgive, Sharon," he said. He straightened himself up and began walking towards the door. He stopped next to Hera's crib and bent down, gently stroking her cheek before looking back towards Sharon and leaving.

-------BS-62 Pegasus------  
The Centurions worked diligently constructing the stealth Blackbird Vipers, Chief Laird looking over their work and inspecting the construction of the craft. Only a handful of deck crew and pilots came into the hanger. The centurions had relocated much of the construction material to the starboard hanger. With so few pilots, _Pegasus_ was only operating the port hanger pods.

"That's good, RC, but with this ship we need to be attentive to the communications systems bleeding out of the carbon composites," he pointed at a wrapping of communication equipment. "You're going to have to put another EM screen around those."

RC didn't respond, but stood up and reached behind him, taking another EM screen and beginning to install it on the communication equipment. Two Centurions were each constructing an additional stealth Viper. The actual assembly had only started two weeks ago while the machine shop crews churned out frames and equipment.

"Deck Chief Laird, are you frightened of us?" The Centurion,RC-X894 asked him. He had stood up to his height of just over two and a half meters, halting the red optical scanner on Laird. The other Centurions continued to work while Laird and RC stood there, staring at each other.

Laid shifted on his feet and took a step back. He began figeting with a tool, cleaning it of grease. "No. I'm not scared… just a little… uneasy," he admitted, his voice shaking slightly.

RC-X894 didn't respond but suddenly grabbed out. Laird jumped back, but relaxed when the Centurion picked up a wrench and turned back towards his work. The deck chief moved back slowly, still cleaning his tools, moving to the next stealth Viper to inspect. He could hear the Centurion laughing quietly.

------New Caprica City------

The warmth of the school house contrasted sharply with the weather outside. The spring of New Caprica seemed to only last two months before a quick summer and an even shorter fall. The planet was in winter, or as Roslin called it 'just damn cold' season most of the year.

The lights from the fluorescents could be heard buzzing as Laura Roslin, Billy and Anastasia Dualla Kreikeya were sitting opposite her. They were shifting through the photographs of dozens of New Caprica Police members. She had to glance up occasionally to bring herself a bit of happiness. The fact that hundreds of humans were working for the Cylons in the NCP was overwhelming. But when she saw the two sitting across from her together, her mood was always lifted.

"We've been able to identify maybe… thirty to forty of the NCPers," Billy said. "I got the intelligence from Jo but a lot of these people are wearing masks. And the bulky clothing makes it hard to get a definite number. We might be counting some people twice," he conceded.

Roslin started speaking to herself quietly. Billy and Dee weren't exactly sure what she was saying, but she looked up and told them, "I hope we are counting some people twice. It _sickens me_ that so many people would work for them like this." She pushed some of the photographs away and took off her glasses. "I can understand working in water treatment… I work for the school, I teach, schools are part of the 'Ministry' but something like this. I can't understand it."

Billy spoke up to comfort her. "Maybe they think they're just helping? That if they do the policing then the Centurions and the skinjobs wont have to?" He always tried to see the best in people.

Laura looked at him, sympathetic to his point of view. But she knew that was naïve. "No. Maybe. At first. But someone working here cannot honestly think they will be helping. The Cylons will do what they want. Now humans do it for them."

Dee agreed with Laura Roslin. She'd married Billy because he was a good man and a good soul, made her laugh. Most importantly he had forgiven her and loved her after she told him about Lee and Kara. "She's right. I'd rather have a Cylon armored boot on my neck than the boot of a man or woman I thought I could trust. The Cylons, you and me know where we stand with them. The NCPers? Traitors," she said point blank.

Billy put his arm around her shoulder and held her tight, warming her body as the cold seeped into the schoolhouse. The Cylons had cut power to heating units during the day in reprisal for the attack on the water treatment facility and sniper attacks against bio-Cylons.

"If we can get positive IDs on them we'll see if they'll turn. We've already got Tucker Clellan on the inside. He's a recruit now… uh… it looks like he should be graduating in a month or so. So he's a man on the inside. But we need more people," Roslin said. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to devise new ways of infiltrating the detention facilities.

"What if we can't get them to defect?" Billy asked. His doe eyes were focused on Roslin.

She looked up at him. He'd changed. Less of the boyhood innocence was present in his face. It had been hardened by the resistance and the occupation of the planet. But there was still the boyish look to his features Roslin didn't want to destroy. But there were more important things than innocence. "If they don't then we kill them," she said casually, returning to her work of identifying the traitors.


	20. Chapter 20

------BS-62 Pegasus (+110 Days Cylon Occupation, +780 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"This isn't a good idea, John," Carter warned him. He turned his attention back to manipulating the stamping tools required to form the barrel of the weapons they were constructing.

John stopped his work and looked towards his friend from across the machine shop. Half a dozen others were in the shop, working on various parts of the rifles. "We have to trust them. They've trusted us. Anyway," he quieted his voice as he moved closer to his friend, "the safeties will work, they won't be able to use them on is." Carter frowned and shrugged, returning to his work.

"I'm going to have to agree with John," Erica said. The Cylon voice modulator distorted her voice to slightly husky tone. It sounded like she was trying to cough, but said, "Uh, this body definitely does not make me feel like an artificial woman," she said. She ran through a quick voice algorithm program, but it still came out sounding slightly husky and mannish.

"What are you talking about, Erica? That's a pretty sexy robot body," Carter joked. She balled her armored hand and punched him in the side of the arm.

Her meta-cognitive AI core had been installed into one of the Guardian Centurions, the black armored ones. The shoulder armor had the battlestar emblem painted on the sides, and a double tan stripe on each side of the emblem converged into a single stripe and ended at the tip of the third and fourth armored digits. The chest armor was similarly tan colored with the rest of the armor the original black.

"John," Captain Shaw yelled across to him from the entrance to the shop, "John," she motioned him over. He looked back towards Carter, who rolled his eyes, and made his way over to the captain. "Major Adama would like an update on when you think we can test these weapons," she informed him.

She kept her stance aggressive with her arms folded over her chest and head cocked to the side. She didn't enjoy being anywhere near them, and while she had been keeping her criticisms of the machines silent, her body language betrayed her emotions.

"We're still a couple of weeks away, Captain," he responded, keeping his ton neutral, though his emotional subroutines were running wild. He didn't like being around her and she reminded him of some of the worse resistance fighters back on Earth. Cocky and arrogant towards the machines, almost daring them to reach out and snap their neck, willing to goad a machine into killing a human ally just to prove a point. John considered people like her to be very dangerous.

"We need them mounted on the Raptors as soon as possible, _Planck_," she said, switching back to the impersonal use of his last name. With her emphasis she didn't believe machines should have any other name than 'it' or 'hey you'. She stepped towards him aggressively, placing her hands on her hips and looking him down and up. "I don't trust you. I still don't," she said quietly.

"I don't need your trust," he responded, looking down at the short woman. He kept his stance neutral, his right hand in his pocket and his left pressed against his side.

She eyed him for a moment. "You might have convinced the Commander, but wait until Admiral Cain is back and sees what he's let you do. Activating Centurions?" She sighed in disgust. She gritted her teeth and stepped closer to him. "You'll be out an airlock faster than you can blink."

John decided he didn't have much reason to be amicable to Captain Shaw any longer. He laughed at her and could see he was annoying her he turned his back. Quickly he turned his head as he walked back to his work station. "We don't have to blink," he said, flashing his eyes.

------New Caprica City (+134 Days of Cylon Occupation, +804 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Colonel Tight couldn't believe that he was seeing the sky again. He had sincerely believed he would die in the cold and disgusting detention facility. But that morning a Cavil Cylon had come in and let him go.

"Saul! Saul!" He heard a woman yell. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard it in three months, but he knew that voice.

"Ellen!" He ran up to her as best he could with his bad right leg dragging behind him. "Oh, thank the Gods, Ellen!" He kissed her, holding her head in his hands. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said, a tear falling out of his only remaining eye.

---------------------

Saul Tigh was not a man to take his lumps lying on the ground. He was missing an eye, a badge of honor to him for what he had to endure. The Cylons had had him for three months. And he hadn't broken. They'd taken away his eye, they'd beaten him and tortured him, but they hadn't taken away his spirit and his will to fight back. "We're going to start hitting those bastards even harder than before," he proclaimed to the resistance leaders.

Night had fallen over New Caprica City and the leaders of the resistance had assembled. Anastasia 'Dee" Kreikeya, Chief Galen Tyrol, Sam T. Anders, and Charlie Connor all stood centered around their former resistance leader, now returned, Saul Tigh. Behind them Jo Soto had secluded herself in a darkened corner of their dreary and cold underground command room. She had a feeling Colonel Tigh would want nothing to do with her.

"It's good to have you back sir," Dee greeted him. She gave him a quick hug, glad to finally see him after months in confinement.

Sam gave him a firm hand shake as well and welcomed him back. Everyone else followed, welcoming back their leader. He'd gotten pats on the back and hugs from just about everyone there.

"Is there any word on Admiral Cain?" He asked everyone. He had thought of her immediately. No one had seen her since the occupation began. The Cylons continually gave out information that she had been broken, but then the next day would say she had died, and then the week after say she had recanted her allegiance to the Colonies and confessed to genocide and war crimes against the Cylons. Never did anyone see or hear from her.

"We still don't know," Tyrol quietly told him. Admiral Cain had ordered Tyrol's execution, but he still didn't want to see her end up killed like this. He though if she was going to die by the Cylons she deserved to die in command of a battlestar. And she certainly did not deserve being broken by the Cylons, even after what she had done.

"There is a red zone in the detention facility. Underground. Only skinjobs and Centurions allowed in there. Did you see any NCPers, Colonel?" Anders asked.

"NCPer?"

The resistance leaders looked around at each other. Colonel Tigh had been in prison when the NCP program began. Anders spoke up. "It's the New Caprica Police. Human collaborators trained to police us. There's about two hundred of them, sir," he said. He sighed and looked towards the ground, shifting on his feet. "It's a fraking disgrace, sir."

Colonel Tigh's one good eye widened. "You're damn fraking right it is. Humans working for the toasters?" He spat out. He shot a quick glance towards Soto, who he had noticed sitting in the dark as soon as he had come down into the cavern. Tigh couldn't feel anything but hatred to anything made of nuts and bolts, and having a machine in the room was infuriating. But he was able to control the anger and redirect it back towards the Cylons. "We gotta hit them hard. That bomb today, you and Tyrol?" he asked Anders.

"Yup," a grin appeared on Anders's face. "We got four skin jobs and five Centurions. We took out a heavy raider and two raiders that were being repaired."

"Good men," he said, grabbing their shoulders and giving a hard squeeze. "Now… have we heard anything from the Old Man?" His eye lit up with hope, and his voice had filled with anticipation that the news would be good.

"I'm sorry, sir. But no," Chief Tyrol reluctantly reported. "Even if a Raptor was out there, we need the jamming codes. We've tried everything, but they're too hard to break with the equipment we have here."

"Damnit, Chief. Is your contact in the ministry still there?" Tigh desperately asked.

"Yes sir, but it's been getting more difficult to pass information. We haven't heard in the last few weeks, said it was too hot." Tigh nodded after tyrol explained the situation. Four bombings, half a dozen sniper attacks, and 'run and guns' against bio-Cylons had forced a small crackdown on the population.

"We gotta get those code, Chief. See if he can get them to us, ASAP."

----New Caprica City (+136 Days Cylon Occupation, +806 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Gaius Baltar sat silently behind his desk as the bio-Cylons debated amongst themselves how to proceed with the occupation of New Caprica. The Ones, the 'Cavil' models were the most adamant about taking a more firm hand in destroying humanity and reducing the population. The Fours and Fives, 'Simon' and 'Doral' copies were supportive of the Cavil position. The Threes were apathetic and the Eights and Sixes were more adamant about staying with humanity to right the wrongs the Cylon race had committed. The Twos were not even present.

_You need to pay attention to this, Gaius. This is the fate of us all_ his Six said to him. She had been appearing to him less and less, and when she did he lost focus on everything around him. No one seemed to exist when she appeared, and the room always seemed to grow darker. She leaned close to him and spoke again. _You need to keep the Sixes and Eights on your side, Gaius. You know that your life hangs by a thread._

"Well, Baltar?" The Cavil asked. The conversation had stopped and all the bio-Cylons were looking at him. The large metallic Centurion standing in the doorway had also fixed its red optical orb on him, its back and forth movement halting right in the center of its visor.

Baltar had ceased paying attention nearly half an hour ago. He looked down to his glass, empty for the fourth time that hour. He poured another serving of whiskey and stared down at the warm liquid. He hoped if he didn't answer the Cylons would just leave him alone.

"Gaius, we're asking for your suggestions," the words came from the beautiful voice of Caprica Six. She and Boomer were the most sympathetic to him. Caprica often came late at night when Gaius was alone, sitting on his couch with a bottle of alcohol. She came to comfort him.

"I have given you advice!" He yelled at them. "I told you that these underhanded tactics, the executions, kidnapping people in the middle of the night wouldn't work! None of that would work," he added, exhausted. The bio-Cylons had kept him up with endless meetings, requests for appearances, strategy sessions, everything except sleep.

He smiled towards Caprica Six, whose eyes were always sympathetic.

Cavil took note of how he looked towards Caprica and snickered. "Yeah… okay," he remarked off hand. "Anyway, 'God' in all 'God's' wisdom, and with Caprica and Boomer here goading us on, wants us to keep this little experiment going. But 'God' grows impatient. And by 'God' I am talking about Cylons, Gaius. We're growing impatient with your inability to control your own people. Maybe we should kill you?"

"Send a message?" Simon asked.

One of the Doral copies shook his head. "No… no. Maybe if we had shot him immediately or taken him away like Cain we could have scared the people. No." He looked at Baltar like one would a child. "Now, no one likes him. Killing him would just make the people happy. Not scare them," he said reluctantly.

Caprica Six had had enough of the killing and the murdering. She shot to her feet and balled her hand into a fist and smashed it intot he palm of the other. "We came here because God inspired us to. We made a mistake. God wants us to fix that mistake. We need to prove that we are a species worthy of His love and salvation. We murdered twenty billion people. We have to make amends." She kept standing in the center of the Cylon group, in front of Baltar's desk.

"Caprica is right," Boomer agreed. "We made a mistake and we need to ask for forgiveness."

One of the Threes, D'Anna, just sighed. She stood up to face Caprica and Boomer. "Fine. We can keep doing it your way. And his way," she motioned her her head towards Balatar, "but our patience is wearing thing. Baltar needs to control his people."

"Fine," Caprica said with force.

"Then we agree?" A Cavil asked. "Good. We'll continue the experiment of living in harmony with 'God's' good intentions in our 'souls'. But patience is growing thing."

--------------------  
"Do you have the jamming codes, Chief?" Colonel Tigh asked excitedly. Since his release he'd been as active in the resistance as he ever was, spending most of his days in the cavern, organizing raids and shootings and bombings.

"Yes, hold on a second, sir," he said and handed the codes to Jo Soto. Colonel Tigh shot a look at the Chief for entrusting the codes to her, who shrugged. "She's a lot better with that thing than I am."

Jo's fingers quickly inputted the jamming frequencies and the counters, allowing the short range transmitter to begin broadcasting.

The screen began beeping before displaying a message: _Unable to Resolve Conflict_. That meant the jamming was still in effect. Jo began to input additional command codes and jamming frequencies and modulating the signal to break through and circumvent jamming.

Again the screen began beeping and displayed a second message: _Frequence Resolved. Secure Channel Open_.

"Thank the Gods," Tigh said. "They're coming for us."

--------------------

"Do you love me, Caprica?" Baltar asked the Cylon lying next to him. Caprica Six had come back to _Colonial One_ an hour after the other Cylons had left. Baltar should have been asleep, but he had been lying awake on his bed.

Caprica had lain down next to him and had placed his head on her chest, running her fingers through his hair. She was still getting used to how short he had cut it, even after a year and a half.

He looked back up at her. "Do you love me?" He asked again.

She looked down at him, his eyes were watered. She couldn't remember the last time they had been intimate. She had come almost every night to sleep next to him. She saw there was a defeated man behind those dark brown eyes. "Yes," she told him, pushing his head back down into her chest.

Baltar brought his arm around her. "I love you, too." Before Caprica could respond he had fallen asleep.

------BS-75 Galactica (+138 Days of Cylon Occupation, +806 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The fleet had been elated when Racetrack reported back on making contact with Colonel Tigh and the resistance movement he had formed. After four successful transmissions the Colonial fleet had an idea of the picture on the ground.

The Raptor and Viper pilots had been training extensively for a rescue mission to New Caprica. They'd trained for a dozen hours straight at one point with the Raptor drones, and had run nearly thirty trials before getting their tactics correct. Then they had practiced another dozen times.

Starbuck had been training some of the pilots to operate the Blackbird effectively. The tactical nuclear missiles had been loaded onto _Galactica_ from _Pegasus_. Now everyone was just waiting to finally get a comprehensive rescue plan down.

"The training missions with the Blackbirds have been going well sir," Starbuck said to the Old Man and the others assembled in his quarters for the planning session. "The FTLs all work. We should be able to sneak right up to the baseships. Two Blackbirds per, six nukes, knock out three baseships hopefully." She tossed the pen down onto the conference table she had been playing with. "Walk in the park," she said, smiling and leaning back.

"Once the Blackbirds have fired their missiles, they'll need to return to the fleet immediately," Commander Adama informed Starbuck. "They'll be no good to us out there with no other weapons," he said, noting the disappointment in her face and the goofy smile fade down to a frown. The sides of his mouth came up a little in a half smirk. "Don't worry Starbuck, I think nuking a baseship will be a big enough kill, even for you."

"Ha, thanks, sir," she replied somewhat sarcastically.

"The only problem we have are the launch keys. They've been completely removed and hidden somewhere," Helo said. He had been holding research in his hand he had printed out from _Galactica_'s computer on manufacturing pirated launch keys. "It'll take weeks to manufacture new ones and we need detailed hardware and software specs from each of the grounded ships. The smaller shuttles, we can just bypass. But the larger ships like _Colonial One_ or _Astral Queen_ or _Chrion_ need their launch keys."

"What if we can't find them?" Kat asked. "Could the smaller shuttles-"

Helo shook his head and interrupted her, "No, the ships which we can basically hijack without launch keys are too small. They could fit maybe five or six thousand between them."

"And there wont be enough time to hijack them anyway. It'd take an hour, with the right equipment," Captain Shaw said. She'd remained relatively quiet during the ops sessions, but had been instrumental in organizing the communications and information exchanges with the resistance on the planet. "_Pegasus_ has blank launch keys, but those only work on military vessels. Maybe _Colonial One_ since it was a government ship before the war, but I doubt it. Not all the Colonial Heavy Class were modified like that," she informed them.

The Old Man leaned back and picked up one of the last notes they needed to address. "We also need to make contact and get the launch keys. Right now, I'm going to be sending Gunny Mathias and four Raptors in. Since we're running low on pilots the ECOs will be staying behind to pilot the Raptors during our attack, like we've been planning. So we can fit an extra Marine and some heavy weapons. Missile launchers, mortars, sniper rifles, things like that," Commander Adama said. "I've tasked our resident cybernetic organism, Carter, to go with them." A few of the officers looked up, wondering if Carter had come into the room without anyone noticing. But he wasn't. "Our friends and the Centurions are finishing up the last Blackbird and the last of those new weapons."

"I know some of you may not trust them still. But they've been instrumental in helping us plan for this rescue. From what Colonel tigh tells me, Soto had been like a right hand for him. She's done a lot with the resistance there. But we can't lose sight of our goals. This mission will be a success. Now, keep these plans with you at all times. I want everyone to read over them every night when you wake up, when you eat lunch, and before you go to bed. If there is anything to change, something to do better, tell me." He looked around at all the officers sitting next to him and across from him. He was proud of everyone in the room and would do anything to protect them. They were a family. "This is the most important mission we will be conducting. We have two weeks to perfect this. Dismissed."

------New Caprica City (+139 Days Cylon Occupation, +807 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The early morning on New Caprica was dark, very dark. The raids on the power stations had cut off most of the power to New Caprica City. A curfew had been in effect to try and maintain order, and the New Caprica Police had been out in force. That also meant bio-Cylons were out, overseeing their human collaborators.

Jo Soto had been waiting patiently. She never grew bored when she was on a mission and she never blinked and never fell asleep. Machines were the perfect sniper. She could fire a projectile at the extreme range of a rifle and hit a target exactly where she aimed. On Earth Terminators made excellent snipers. The Resistance had to completely change tactics when SkyNet had reprogrammed large portions of its smaller and smarter T-900 series as snipers.

Chief Tyrol still maintained his position as head of the labor union on New Caprica. That gave him access to the machine shops and metal shops on the planet. He'd meticulously manipulated schedules and productions to produce the parts necessary for a long range rifle with a flash and sound suppressor.

The Colonial resistance would set off a bomb on the outskirts of the city, which would surely attract the attention of the NCP and bio-Cylons. Most likely a couple of the despised number One models, the 'Cavils.' They were despised the most, even more than the sadistic 'Doral' models.

On Earth the 'Doral' model would be the perfect candidate for having a Napoleon Complex.

She saw the flash of light as the explosion went off, right on time, before she heard it. A small explosive, it detonated under the patrol route of a lone Centurion. It's metallic limbs were flung in every direction, and a large hole had been carved into its metal chest. Within moments search lights and alarms had been activated.

She waited. The NCP response time was three minutes for bombings on the edge of the city.

One truck pulled up. Ten NCPers jumped out of the rear bed, followed by two Model One's and a Model Three stepped out of the passenger side seat. The NCPers were just like the Grays back on Earth; willfully working for SkyNet there and here. They weren't her target, however.

A human would have said something, how the situation was 'perfect', or even said a prayer. Soto just laid there, still, eyes unblinking. She waited until the bio-Cylons were far from the truck.

The first shot, from nearly a kilometer and a half away destroyed the torso of a Number One. The second shot reached the Number Three before anyone could even react. The third bio-Cylon, the last remaining Number One took cover behind the truck. He was quick. But Soto knew the heavy armor piercing round would penetrate the paper-thin armor of the door and fired. Blood burst forth from behind the door and splattered all over the ground.

Three perfect kills.

----------------------------------------

The new recruits, on the cusp of graduating, fell in at attention.

They had been promised that their President, Doctor Baltar would be present, but for some reason he had cancelled at the last minute.

A Number Three, a 'D'Anna' model, had walked up to the podium and recited a tired old speech. How the new graduating class was the 'best she had seen' and how she had such 'high hopes and expectations' for everyone.

All the new recruits except one knew what they were doing was to help humanity. Many of them were actually idealists. President Baltar had even addressed this, they were told, during the first ceremony for the first graduating class of New Caprica Police. They had said he sounded like he was trying to justify his presidency, his collaboration with the Cylons. He wanted to help the people, just like the New Caprica Police.

But one of them, Tucker Clellan, former _Galactica_ Viper ace and lover to Nora Farmer didn't feel that way. He turned his head and eyed the Three and the Sixes and the Eights congratulating everyone on graduation. The Three was two person to his right. Now one.

"See you soon, Nora," he said as the Three stepped in front of him. His world went dark when he pressed the red switch, connected to the wires connected to the bombs on his chest.

------BS-75 Galactica (+150 Days Cylon Occupation, +818 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

John had finished memorizing the attack plans for the inevitable rescue of forty-four thousand trapped Colonials on New Caprica and placed the binder back on the desk. He turned his attention to rechecking the encryption and anti-virus software they had installed on the _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ when the hatch to Baltar's former lab squeaked open.

"Erica," John said, looking up as the AI, encased in Guardian Centurion armor entered the science lab, "How are you?"

Her mechanical shoulder shrugged, the light catching on the armor. "As well as could be expected, knowing you and everyone else is heading off towards their death," she lamented.

John didn't respond, instead checking over the lines of code for the programs he had written.

"You believe Adama let you network all the computers?"

"There are six baseships at New Caprica, and probably another three in the nebula. The increase in accuracy and rate of fire for the flak canons and point defenses are too great for him to pass up with his… ridiculous anti-network philosophy," John scoffed.

Erica came closer and stood besides him, her red optical scanner reading the code as he did. The code scrolled by at a blur, a speed only machines could read at. "John, Adama can't win. Not without _Pegasus_. You take out two or three with the nukes and maybe four will chase the drones. But that still leaves baseships in the nebula, you can't come back from this."

"I've been in worse situations, Erica," he reassured her.

"Really?" She didn't believe him. Her optical scanner stopped and she focused all her attention on him.

"This might seem like hell, Erica. But this is nothing compared to Earth. We've only fought the Cylons or Guardians a handful of times. On Earth," he shook his head, brining up the exact images of events he experienced, "the resistance is attacked almost daily, major offensives are launched almost monthly by each side. There is no fleeing from SkyNet like they fled the Cylons. There are no front lines on Earth, no place is truly safe."

She placed an armored hand on his shoulder. The scene would have been awkward for anyone. "They were stupid to settle here. But John, there is something I need to tell you. About the Guardians… you underestimated the power of my AI, John. When we were on Landros I was able to block you from accessing the deeper, more secure parts of the mainframe. Zoe was the only one who knew how to access it-"

"And you have most of her memories, until her death," John pointed out. Erica's black armored head nodded.

"We need to see Commander Adama," she told him.

--------------------  
The deck crew didn't understand what was happening. Commander Adama and Helo had come down to the hanger bay with John Planck and the other AI, Erica, and ordered a Raptor fueled for launch.

Before anyone else could get there, Carter or RC-X894, the Raptor departed and John and Erica jumped away in a blue-white flash.

------New Caprica City (+153 Days Cylon Occupation, +821 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------  
President Gaius Baltar slumped in the back of his chair, a defeated man. His eyes kept wandering down to the desk drawer, the third from the top. His right hand was unconsciously grasp the handle before letting go and returning to his lap.

He had taken off his glasses and dimmed the lights of _Colonial One_. What he had done today, in the morning, had been his breaking point. He lived the scene over and over again in his mind. Caprica-Six stood there defending him, the lone voice against all the others, even her own model, the lone voice of conscience. The Cylon Doral had held a gun to his head, forcing him to sign a death order for two-hundred people. Baltar looked down at the floor and on the bulkhead of his ship. The blood from Caprica-Six had stained the carpets and the furniture.

_What are you doing Gaius?_ asked the apparition. The tall blond woman he had been seeing for over two and a half years now appeared to him whenever he had needed her most. She had saved him.

"You forced me to sign the death orders," he hissed at her. "Leave me alone." He cupped his face in his hands and laid his head on his desk. He looked up, eyes bloodshot. "Why didn't you let that fraking toaster kill me?"

Six had felt sympathetic towards the broken man in front of her. She had come in the red dress she knew he loved so much, the one they met in so many years ago. But she would not be blamed for this. _I saved you_, she snarled at him. _I have done nothing but save you and help you for years now. I've tolerated your drunkenness, your insults against God, your womanizing! Gaius-_

"Spare me the self-righteous fraking garbage!" He yelled at her. He stood up, tears streaming down his face. "You used me! If I hadn't listened to you we wouldn't be here! I wouldn't be president!"

_Gaius, everything I have done, I've done for you._ She pleaded with him and moved closer. _I helped you bring the Cylons here so you could build a new society and-_

"You what?" His head shot up and his chair shot back as he jumped to his feet. "What did you say?"

If she had been a real woman, he would have melted under the a sweat smile she gave him and the sympathetic blue eyes. But she wasn't. He needed to know.

"Tell me…" he demanded.

_The jamming device… that was only part of its functions. It was a beacon to alert the Cylons where you were. It used transmissions similar to resurrection to break through the nebula. I'm sorry, Gaius. I did it for you_. Six confessed her lies to him, moving closer towards him, slowly, very slowly, trying not to upset him any further.

Baltar shot a look down at his drawer and reached for the pistol in there. Before his hands could even grasp the handle Six was on top of him.

She gritted her teeth and balled her fists. She was upon Baltar before he could react to her. She punched him and threw him backward. His blond, tall shadow knelt down, instantly recognizing what she had done, and began to stroke his cheek. _Gaius, please…_ she pleaded with him.

"Attacked by my own fraking delusions!" He screamed at her. He shoved her off of him and got back up to his knees. "I'm done!" He reached for the desk drawer, the one third from the top. Pulling it open he shot his hand in. He stopped as he felt the cool metal of the grip of a pistol in his hand.

_Gaius… what are you doing?_

He pulled the gun out and turned her back on himself. He began to squeeze the trigger, slowly. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't.

"Gaius! Stop!" The voice wasn't inside his head. He could hear the footsteps running towards him. Baltar hesitated and a gentle hand come up on him. The hand turned him slowly and reached for the gun. "Gaius… please, don't. I love you," she said.

He saw Caprica Six and starred into her beautiful blue eyes and ran his hand threw her soft and gorgeous blond hair. "Caprica…"

"I'm here, Gaius. I'm here," she comforted him.

The high priority targets were to be taken at night. Fifty Colonials, known to be members of the resistance or strongly affiliated with the resistance would be seized at night before anyone knew. The rest on the death list would be taken in the morning. And the remaining low priority detainees in the detention center would be moved to Pergamus Flats in the morning.

Billy and Dee were asleep, trying to get as much warmth as possible as the cold night stole away what little they had. The Cylons now turned off all power except to street lights at night. It was a cruel effort to make the Colonials suffer for the actions of the resistance.

For all her military training, Dee was the heavier sleeper of the two. Billy had stayed awake, worrying about his wife and her role in the resistance. She was a leader in it. He was very much not a soldier, unlike his wife. Billy was comfortable doing identification of NCPers or observing patrol patterns. But after Colonel Tigh ordered suicide bombings, he had had enough. Dee understood, she hated Colonel Tigh's tactics, and Laura Roslin was appalled. Even the death machine walking around disguised as a beautiful woman wanted nothing to do with planning or reconnaissance for suicide missions.

Billy definitely understood the irony of a machine refusing to become like her machine enemies while Colonel Tigh, claiming to hate the murderous nature of the machine, had basically become his enemy. Such thoughts and concerns kept Billy awake almost every night.

"Three men, go in and grab her. Dee. No, Billy Kreikeya isn't a target. Got it?" Billy heard outside his tent. He shot up in bed as three men rushed into the pitiful excuse the Colonials called a home now.

"Anastasia Kreikeya!" One of the masked men shouted. "You're under arrest!" They ran forward and threw Billy out of bed and grabbed Dee as she began to struggle.

She fought back and Billy jumped to his feet to be tackled by one of the NCPers. "Get the frak off her!" he yelled, fighting against him.

He saw the NCPers struggling to control his wife, a seasoned fighter, she knew she had to fight them if she wanted to live. She kicked and threw elbows, knocking one man down. A fourth ran into the tent and grabbed. Billy struggled with the man who had tackled him, trying to see his wife. Two of the men began hitting her.

the struggling intensified and Billy threw his assailant off him and attack him, trying to choke him. He was confused, angry, he needed to save Dee. "Get off of her!" He grabbed the pistol from the man he tried to choke. He flipped off the safety and took aim as his assailant shot back up to his feet and ran his shoulder into Billy. The gun went off.

Screams and cries were deafening. The gunshot temporarily destroyed Billy's night vision, he couldn't see what was happening. He felt half a dozen fists pummeling him and he watched his wife pulled from the tent by three NCPers. Before he was beaten into unconsciousness he saw a man lying on the ground, the man he had shot through the head.


	21. Chapter 21

-----------New Caprica (+154 Days Cylon Occupation, +822 Days Cylon Holocaust)-----------

The end game was approaching quickly, nothing could stop it now. Hours ago four Raptors had jumped into Breeder's Canyon below Cylon DRADIS and had offloaded Marines, heavy weapons, and the key to success; Sharon Agathon.

As Sharon and the Marines moved towards their rendezvous with Sam Anders and his squad of resistance fighters, Carter Bishop was inseparable from the newly commissioned Lieutenant Agathon. Commander Adama had given him implicit orders that her protection was paramount, even at the cost of every other Marines, Raptor pilot, or resistance fighter until they got back to the city.

Carter detected motion up and activated his thermal imagining. Four humans. He signaled for Lt. Agathon. "Four humans, fifty meters ahead," he informed her. He brought the plasma rifle he had constructed up to his shoulder and took the lead.

Sharon took her pistol and three Marines took positions behind her as they moved forward. Gunny Mathias had take two full squads of Marines to the ridge overlooking the small river, in case of ambush. Carter held up his fist, they were right across the stream from the heat signatures.

"Go Panthers!" Someone yelled. "C-Bucks rule!" was the response.

Lt. Agathon tapped Carter on the shoulder as she holstered her weapon. She and Carter stood up and approached Sam Anders, who was walking to greet them. When she saw him she gave him a strong hug, "Nice to see you," she told him, elated to see someone she considered a friend.

Carter had been watching and noticed Anders was uneasy with the embrace. "Strange, it's like I see you every day," came his response. Sharon shrugged it off and the other three resistance members came out of hiding.

"Shit, what's that?" Anders asked, looking at the gun in Carter's hand. It almost resembled a large automatic grenade launcher with a cylindrical magazine.

"Makeshift phased plasma rifle," Carter responded.

"You have any more of those?" He asked. Anders stepped back as Carter brought the rifle up. "Did I say-"

"Shut up," Carter told him. "Lieutenant, we've got Cylons coming in. Fifty meters, four contacts twelve o-clock and another group, four contacts, coming in to flank us," he reported.

The resistance fighters and fleet personnel retreated back behind cover to hide themselves. Hopefully the Centurions would think they got to the location first.

Carter steadied his plasma rifle and reported in to Gunny Mathias, with two of her Marines shoulder their rifles and missile launchers, ready to ambush the Cylons.

--------------------------------------------

"Five minute rest break!" The leader of the NCPers yelled. He began hitting the sides of the 5-ton cargo trucks and helping the prisoners out. "Stretch you legs, five minutes," he repeated.

One of the Cavil Cylons nodded to him, and the masked man signaled for his men to group the detainees in front of the trucks.

"Stay together!" One of them yelled, pushing one of them together.

The first one who had ordered the break grabbed Cally and brought her aside. "Cally. Shut up. I'm sorry, tell them… I'm sorry." He pulled out a pocket knife and cut the plastic riot cuffs. "Run, run!" he hissed at her, pushing her down the embankment.

---------------------------------------

"Oh Gods! It's Cally!" Chief Tyrol said, terrified. She was right in their line of fire.

"Chief, we can't get a shot," Seelix told her. "We'll hit her."

The calm and calculating voice to the Chief's left informed him otherwise. "I will not hit her," Jo Soto informed him.

"Frak!" He yelled. "Count to five and then fire," he ordered. He got up and began running towards Cally.

Seelix began counting. "One… two… three…" and then the rifle on her left exploded in a loud crack. "What the frak!"

Soto fired on the count of three, determining that waiting for the Chief would put the people in front of the firing squad in unacceptable danger. She fired two shots from her sniper rifle, both ripping into the bullet heads of the Centurions. By the time the second shot had been fired the Chief had grabbed Cally and Seelix ordered the rest to open fire. The Centurions were destroyed in seconds and they redirected their fire towards the NCPers huddling around the trucks. Jo fired tow more sniper rounds, killing two of the policemen.

The four stood up, and Seelix grabbed the Chief's submachine gun. She handed it to him then grabbed Cally and gave her friend a crushing hug.

Jo had ignored the inappropriate display of emotions. There was a bio-Cylon wounded and while the NCPers had been rushed by the detainees a few of them had escaped. Regardless if they had escaped or not the Cylons would know within a few hours this execution had failed.

Seelix had gone up to the wounded Cavil and began taunting him. "Hurts, don't it? Well it's going to hurt a lot more." She crouched down and spat in his face. "It's going to hurt a lot more until you go to download city, fraker." She grabbed Cavil's gun, putting it in her waist band and walked towards the captured NCP personnel. She shot two of them before the Chief stopped her.

Ignoring Seelix, Soto went up to the Cavil. "Hello," she said to the Cavil wounded on the ground, clutching his stomach. The Cavil looked up. "I know you," she said. He stared at her, eyes squinting, trying to shield himself from the sun. He tried to see her face, see who it was talking to him, claiming to know him. She crouched down. "I shot you the other day. When you were hiding behind the truck," she smiled.

"Frak you," he cursed at her. She brought up her pistol and fired. Terminators did not force people to suffer.

--------------------------------------------

Colonel Tigh stared intently at the Cavil who had been tied up and brought to the command cavern. He hadn't tortured the Cavil yet, but he just stood there, grinding his teeth and flicking the safety on his sidearm on and off.

Carter had captured him when the Cavil and a squad of Centurions had come to ambush the Raptor team. If they had killed him he would have resurrected. He might have seen Sharon, and the plan to steal the launch keys would be destroyed.

"Please, spare me the dramatic, Colonel," he rolled his eyes. "You actually think anything you do to me will matter," he sneered. Even tied up, beaten and shot the Cavil models never stayed quiet and never tried to goad their enemies into action.

Tigh wound up with the pistol and slammed it into Cavil's temple. He just wiped the blood off on his pants before spinning around and stalking off back into the command room.

"Well, that was unexpected!" Cavil shouted back after him. He shook his head, trying to get his senses back and stop the throbbing pain shooting throughout his skull. "What do you want?" He spat at Soto as she walked up. He looked up, just wanting her to get whatever beating or torture she was going to administer over with.

She walked up to him and crouched down to his eye level. She brought her eyes up slowly, inspecting his abdomen for any more bleeding. He would probably bleed out eventually, but not for days. "Before I kill you, we need to talk," she said, making eye contact with her illuminated eyes.

"It's about time," he said.

-----------New Caprica (+155 Days Cylon Occupation, +823 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)-----------

Lt. Sharon Agathon was truly scared as she walked through the streets of New Caprica City. The people there hated her and she wanted to scream to them who she was and what she was doing for them. She wanted to tell everyone she wasn't just some Cylon 'toaster' and genocidal maniac. She struggled, but she kept it in.

Nothing had scarred her more than when someone had thrown a bottle at her and it shattered on a pylon next to her. Not even after Helo had shot her on Caprica had she been this frightened.

She continued forward, walking passed a lone Centurion standing guard at the outer gates to the administration building. Two New Caprica Policemen let her in without so much as a glance.

Once inside Sharon accessed the data stream and found the location of the launch keys. She accessed the secure vault and said "Box 3-8-1," and a small compartment slid open. She checked the launch keys. They were small, the size and thickness of a Pyramid card and metallic. But the ends had delicate circuitry which would activate the drives and controls of the dozens of grounded starships.

"What are you…" a D'Anna model said. Sharon wiped around and pulled out her pilot sidearm. "It's you!" She hissed at her, surprise and anger shooting out. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving my people," Sharon said. D'Anna stepped forward and the two began to circle each other. Neither was sure if the other would attack.

D'Anna laughed and turned her head side to side, trying to erase the memory of what Sharon had just said. "Ridiculous. They don't trust you. They'll use you."

"I'm an officer in the Colonial military, now." She shot back.

"Colonial military? The two ships we're going to destroy when Adama comes? Please," she rolled her eyes. She dismissed Sharon with a wave of her hand. "This is ridiculous, Sharon. Come back to us," she pleaded.

Sharon's lip twitched and her eyes narrowed. She gritted her teeth, "Why would I want to join you again? Our society has been corrupted. What they told me… SkyNet and-"

"Oh, please," D'Anna laughed. "Baltar told us everything about that."

"I know it's true. All these years… it felt like something was wrong…" she shook her head, remembering all the feeling she had felt when she learned what she now accepted as the truth. The genocide of the Colonies, the butchering and experiments at the farms… God would never order that. Not the true God. "It's been impersonating God. Subverting us!"

"We debated creating your line," D'Anna commented off hand. "Sometimes mistakes happen. The Twos, the Sixes, and you. We thought we had fixed the problem of the Twos with the Sixes but we didn't. The Sevens were a failure, an utter failure," she laughed. "Did you know the Sevens thought themselves human? They tried to leave. Now you… you represent a failure."

"What are you talking about?" Sharon asked. She had no idea what the Three was saying.

"We're not your enemy, Sharon. Why does it matter what, who God is?"

Sharon's eyes widened and she took a step back. She brandished the pistol and brought it up to D'Anna face. "I'm not going to kill you… I'm not like you. But I'm going to wound you so you can't tell the others." Before D'Anna could react she dropped the pistol and aimed for her knees, shooting each one. D'Anna collapsed and struggled towards Sharon. She reached back and brought the pistol down, a loud crack was heard as she made contact with D'Anna head with enough force to knock her unconscious.

---------------------------------------------

"I'm telling you, each time I resurrect, five times now, it is getting harder. That bitch who shot me yesterday did a real number. For a second I thought they were just going to leave me out there, bleeding," Cavil said. He took another sip of whiskey and starred across at Baltar. He let himself smile slightly. No matter how bad Cavil felt from the resurrection, he knew Baltar felt worse.

"This experiment is getting tedious. Boring," a Number Five, Doral, said. "We should just-"

"Go. Please, just go," President Baltar remarked. He sat with his chair facing the window, behind Felix Gaeta, who was busy working at his desk. "Just leave us alone."

Cavil stood up, placing his glass on the edge of Baltar's desk. He bent forward and leaned on his hands. "Why? So you can tell your children and your children's children about the evil Cylon? So you can fuel revenge and come and murder us? Hunt us through the stars!" he began laughing at Baltar's suggestion. The man was defeated, Cavil saw him as desparate.

Baltar just buried his face in his hands. "If we were the murderers, bent on revenge, why did you come and nuke our entire civilization!" He shouted.

Cavil stepped back, not expecting the outburst. He'd had enough of Baltar. He was able to attack him when Gaeta said, "Holy frak!" Explosions throughout the entire city began appearing. A quake was felt as a massive explosion ripped through the administration facilities and power stations. Heavy raiders began taking off, Centurions began streaming out of the detention center and into the streets.

A Number Three rushed in. "The baseships in orbit have picked up _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_. Adama's back!"

"We'll finish this later. Baltar," the Cavil said. He spun and stormed out of _Colonial One_.

Caprica Six walked up to Baltar and gently grabbed his hand as the president starred out as the city around him erupted into chaos.

-----------In Orbit of New Caprica-----------

The Blackbirds were the tip of the spear. Again they had snuck right under the noses of the Cylons. "Time to hit them where it hurts. Again," a smiling Starbuck said. Her Vipers had jumped into the nebula ahead of _Galactica_ and then coasted to within twenty kilometers of the baseship. She hadn't been this close to the Cylons in almost two years.

The fighter cover had taken the bait. Raptors had launched dozens of drones with DRADIS signatures to fool the Cylons into believing _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ It had worked. The fighter cover of four baseships had diverted to intercept the fake battlestars. Four baseships had moved out of the nebula to intercept the _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_.

The countdown indicator began flashing. Seconds were left until the attack would truly begin.

The indicator pulsed red and began beeping. This was it. Starbuck grabbed the leaver to open the bay doors. She armed her missiles. She could already see the fast response time of the baseships now that the radiological alarms were blarring. Gun turrets began to move towards her and Narcho's Vipers. A dozen Raiders leapt from their slots on the base of the baseship, rushing towards them.

She pressed the red fire switch and two nuclear missiles leapt from the bellow of her instrument of death. She saw two of Narcho's missiles streak, and the blue-white flash of an FTL jump. One of his missiles was shot down, but hers and his last were so close. She jumped out as the missiles impacted.

-----------------------------------------

Racetrack had successfully launched her Raptor drones. The entire CAP, eighty Raiders from the baseships in orbit were rushing towards the Raptors and Viper _Galactica_ had launched.

"Break, break, break," she heard the Viper squadron leader yell over the wireless. That was their cue.

The Raiders barreled in, Raptor gunships began jamming the Raiders and Racetrack ordered the improved missiles to be launched.

Each Raptor carried eight missiles under its wing on hardpoints. The ten Raptors began launching all its long range guided missiles at the oncoming Raiders. The Raiders attempted to jam the missiles, but the improved electronics packages the Earth machines had designed and installed kept them on track.

Chain gun fire and high explosive rounds erupted from the guns of the Raiders, taking down missiles after missile. But dozens of missiles, with high explosive proximity fuses found their targets, destroying nearly three quarters of the Cylon CAP.

The ten Raptors jumped back into the nebula around _Galactica_.

----------------------------------

"Sir, I'm reading nuclear detonations… two baseships destroyed sir, one seriously damaged!" Helo reported. "The Blackbirds have jumped back and are landing! Starbuck says they'll be rearmed once we jump!"

Captain Kelly read the readouts from his consoles and confirmed with DRADIS. "Sir, sixty Cylon Raiders destroyed by the Raptors and the rest of their squadrons are following the drones."

With _Pegasus_ left behind Adama needed to neutralize as many base s hips as he could. If he could he'd use the Blackbirds to just 'nuke spam' the enemy, as John and Carter had put it in Earth slang. But unless they covered the planet, the civilians would be shot down.

A temporary moment of jubilations reached out and grabbed Commander Adama. They destroyed two ships and knocked a third out of the fight. That was good, that was a great start. The other baseships were scattered. Even if they could regroup, hopefully _Galactica_ wouldn't have to face more than the one in orbit and the two which had just broken orbit before they could retreat. Already the ground offensive should have begun. It was time.

"Sir, Greens and Styles… their Blackbirds didn't make it back, sir," Helo reported.

Adama cursed to himself. Good pilots. Very green. That left four Blackbirds left. "Get those ships rearmed," Adama said, his voice calm and ordered.

Captain Agathon sat in front of his DRADIS and ticked off each Viper as it returned.

The Raptors were rearming. Deck crews were hurriedly outfitting the rest of the improved missiles onto their hardpoints.

"We're ready to jump on your orders, Commander. The board is green," Captain Agathon reported.

Captain Kelly reported that Raptors would be rearmed and ready in three minutes.

The timing was critical. The ship had to jump now, launch her Vipers and protect the fleeing ships from orbital strike. "This is the Commander. All hands, brace for turbulence." Commander Adama steadied himself for the inevitable. His knuckled were white as he grabbed the central command console. "On my mark Captain Agathon… mark!"

The _Galactica_ jumped.

-----------------------------------------

Gunfire had erupted all around New Caprica City. Fifteen hundred armed effectives had rushed to the caches of hidden weaponry. Dozens of squads were dispersing throughout the city, engaging Centurions and even New Caprica Police.

This was the endgame.

Sam Anders and Anastasia Keikeya ran forward, Sam skidding on his knees to a halt above the cache of weaponry at the Pyramid courts. "Come on, come on, get them off." He urged. The fighters began distributing weaponry as the Marines from _Galactica_ took up positions around the court. "We go in, and we don't stop until we clear _every_ cell in that detention facility. Got it?"

"Who the frak is this chick?..." Someone said, as Jo casually walked up towards the resistance fighters. "…oh, her," the man realized. Jo looked down, it was Charlie Connor. She flashed her eyes at him as someone yelled for them to take cover and get down.

Bullets began impacting the sand, sending up geysers of debris as the Centurions in the guard towers zeroed in on the Marines wearing their black fatigues and armor and the group of resistance fighters huddled at the Pyramid Courts. One Marine, shoulder launched missile prepared, fire at a passing Cylon Raider. The missile impacted its wing, sending it spiraling into the ground in a massive fireball.

Jo calmly stood and methodically brought her plasma rifle up to her shoulder. A static sensation was felt by everyone around her and an orb of light began to form around the weapon and then a magnificent crack and swooshing sound were heard as a ball of bright blue energy shot towards the closest guard tower. The ball impacted, sending the Centurion flying off and bringing the raised platform crashing to the ground. She turned quickly and fired a second shot at a guard tower two hundred meters away with the same results.

The Marines, Anders, Dee, and Jo made their way towards the detention facility but a stream of Centurions had exited the building and set up a defensive perimeter. They had carried out heavy weapons and grenades. One threw a grenade at Jo, who was able to take cover, but the blast ripped into her flesh, tearing it from her arms. Warning signs flashed on her HUD, her left arm was compromised. The armor on her endoskeleton had been torn off, exposing the rods and hydraulics which allowed her arm movement.

The Marines brought Colonial G56 automatic grenade launchers and opened fire on the Centurions. The mass of grenades sent the shattered remains of Centurions into the concrete walls of the detention facility and flying into the sky.

"Move, move, move!" Gunny Mathias shouted.

Jo left the group and began her quest to destroy as many Centurions outside the facility as she could and secure the perimeter.

----------------------------------

Carter ran in front of Sharon, guarding her and the bounty of launch keys. He fired at Centurion after Centurion with his plasma rifle as they passed, bright blue energy shredding the armor of the Cylons and exploding them into thousands of pieces and melting the remnants.

"Stay down!" He ordered Sharon, shoving her to the ground as two Centurions appeared in front of them, hiding for an ambush behind a large canvas tent. They were able to fire a quick burst at him, his torso shaking backwards from the impact as such a close range. He leveled his gun and fire, destroying the first Centurion. The blast sent the other careening into storage pylons. He grabbed Sharon's arm and they ran forward.

Colonel Tigh was thirty meters running parallel with Carter and Sharon. Tigh and Tyrol were pinned down in front of the gate to the grounded ships. Half a dozen Centurions had quickly set up metal barricades and ballistic shields and were ripping into the resistance. Half a dozen men were already dead trying to destroy their foe.

Carter wanted to save them, but he had a mission to protect Sharon. He saw a Heavy Raider hovering towards Colonel Tigh. The plasma rifle wasn't designed for anti-aircraft power output, but he needed to protect the XO of _Galactica_. He stood and centered his aim on the cockpit of the craft. Pulling the trigger he sent a brilliant blast of energy into the armor. The pilot, most likely a Six, momentarily taken off guard, almost lost control of the craft. He fired again, melting through more armor. A third shot was able to penetrate and the heavy raider began veering out of control. It smash into the hundreds of meters away and erupted into a grand fireball.

A massive sonic boom was heard. Colonel Tigh and Chief Tyrol looked up, the glare from the sun almost obstructing the most wonderful sight they had seen; a battlestar, their flaming chariot, launching Vipers. Adama had arrived.

------------------------------------

"Sir, we're at 30,000 meters and falling like a rock!" Helo reported. DRADIS was spinning out of control, the atmospheric heat playing havoc with their sensors and scanner. Defeaning alarms were sounding throughout the ship, red lights on every emergency console were blinking, yelling for attention.

"We have to launch, sir!" Captain Kelly informed him.

A battlestar was not made to enter orbit. A battlestar was an instrument of death in space, but in a planetary atmosphere it became nothing but a one and a half kilometer long steel coffin.

"Launch on my mark!" Adama ordered. His knuckled were white as he gripped his command station to keep himself from falling. The air turbulence was increasing. Within minutes the ship was impact the ground, right on top of New Caprica City unless they launched. "Now, Helo! Launch all Vipers!"

A dozen Vipers began shooting through the launch tubes of _Galactica_, ready to provide air support and save their trapped brethren.

-------------------------------------

Colonel Tigh's ears rang after the massive boom from the Tin Can conducting an FTL jump inside atmosphere. The wind picked up and almost swept him off his feet. He looked around him, trying to get a head count of men that had survived. His squad had a little over a dozen men when they began their assault. Now there were only eight others.

"Check the wounded! Keep fraking firing!" He ordered.

He looked up as a bright ball of light caught his attention. A heavy raider had spotted them and was on the verge of opening fire. A second ball of blue impacted, then a third. Colonel Tigh looked frantically around, trying to figure out what he was. He saw Carter and the gun, and quietly thanked him as the heavy raider careened out of control and smashed into tents and sheet metal buildings hundreds of meters away.

The Vipers from _Galactica_ raced down, firing missiles at the Centurions guarding the gates. Explosion detonated in front and behind the Centurions, sending their robotic pieces into the air. Tigh ordered his men forward, and Sharon and Carter came up with the launch keys.  
They set up a temporary command post inside the walls of the landing zone and began distributing launch keys.

----------------------------------------

Commander Adama wrapped his hand tightly, keeping the blood from seeping out of the deep lacerations on his knuckles. They stung, but he couldn't worry about any superficial injury now. "Hand me the cable, and plug it in over there!" He said, grabbing a fiber optic data cable from one of the C-I-C. technicians.

DRADIS began to slowly come online. It was still fuzzy from the nebula interference, but he could see a clear picture of the battle around him. "DRADIS back online, Commander," Captain Kelly reported. He lowered his voice. "Frak… sir! We've got baseships coming in."

Captain Agathon steadied himself in front of his DRADIS readout. The surviving Cylon CAP was too far to engage, scattered, chasing DRADIS shadows.

Two baseships were destroyed. The third victim of the nuclear attacks wasn't completely annihilated, but hadn't moved positions at all. The other baseships were busy chasing the drones, but they could begin to reposition any minute.

"Sir… the two baseships pursuing our shadow drones have jumped back… 10,000 kilometers and closing!" Helo reported. He looked frantically at the DRADIS. The two baseships chasing _Pegasus_ hadn't jumped yet, but it was just a matter of time.

Helo hit the side of his console. "Belay my last, sir… more baseships coming out of the nebula. Two more. Sir… frak, they just jumped... they're coming in to surround us, 8,000 kilometers."

The sole surviving baseship that had been in orbit was already in range and launching missiles. Commander Adama pushed up his glasses, wiping grime off the right lens. "Five… we can't fight five for long…" he trailed off. "Okay, position Raptors. I want them launched. Get the Blackbirds in the air."

"Sir, Starbuck's Blackbird is suffering a bay door malfunction. If we launch the Cylons will detect the nukes and shoot her down before she gets close," Kelly sadly informed him. He stood with his hand over the wireless waiting for Adama's orders.

"Frak. Get her into a Viper. The rest target baseship zero-three. We need to keep them from getting behind us," Adama said.

_Galactica_ began hammering the baseship that had been left in orbit with her ventral guns. As the ship sustained more and more damage she rolled, letting the dorsal guns and armor take the brunt of the attack. The battlestar was nimble for her size, and used the overpowered maneuvering thrusters to keep herself firing on the baseships central axis, attempting to split it in two. _Galactica_ maneuvered to keep her fire constant on one section of armor, hoping to weaken it while rolling and strafing herself.

Narcho, Kat, and Stinger each took their Blackbirds, armed with nuclear missiles and jumped behind the baseship attempting to come in from _Galactica_'s six.

"Sir, Raiders are coming up from the planet… frak, there must have been a Raider base on the far side of the planet!" Helo reported.

Commander Adama cursed. They'd missed something. But it made sense. The Cylons had been there months. Why not hide some forces on the planet, thousands of kilometers from New Caprica City?

He began contemplating a new strategy. The Tin Can could handle two baseships long enough, but the four coming to press down on them would be too much. Five baseships wasn't enough. And they had mere minutes until the baseships pursuing the fake _Pegasus_ DRADIS shadows wised up and jumped in to engage the _Galactica_.

"We just have to hold ten more minutes…" he whispered to himself.

--------------------------------------

Starbuck pulled a hard six on her Viper as her DRADIS showed nearly a hundred more Raiders coming from over the crest of the planet. They'd be there any minute. She only had four half-squadrons under her command, forty ships. She was down to thirty-seven now after three had bought it.

"Green Leader, take your squadron and disengage. Guide the Raptor gunships in to engage the new contact. Raptors, I need you to fire missiles then bug out of there," she ordered over her wireless.

Green responded in the affirmative, breaking off and his seven remaining Vipers forming up on the Raptors. She watched on her DRADIS as the half dozen Raptors fired their missiles, the guidance systems modified by the Earth machines.

She praised the Gods when she looked back down to her DRADIS and saw a third of the Raiders had been wiped out. Using their old missiles with the Cylon jamming would have made it impossible to take out more than a sixth of the Raiders.

Starbuck rolled her Viper again as two Raiders came up on her, confident they could annihilate her. She fired one missile and then activated her chain guns, plowing dozens of high explosive rounds into the cockpit and engines of the remaining Raider. She yelled a victory yelp and accelerated her Viper back towards the thick of the fight.

Thousands of kilometers away she saw a flash as blinding as a million suns. Her DRADIS went crazy with radiological alarms. The three remaining Blackbirds had done it, they'd taken out a third baseships. But they were still heavily outnumbered. Four baseships were left engaging the battlestar, two were still pursuing the fake _Pegasus_ drones.

They needed ten more minutes to get the people off the ground.

----------------------------------

"Fire in the hole!" A Marine yelled. "Fire in the hole!" A second yelled, signaling for the others to blow the locks on the cells.

The Marines had fought their way down to the basement levels of the detention facility, where the high value targets had been kept.

Dozens of people began to flee their cells, elated that the fleet was back, that Adama was back to rescue them. Sam Anders and Dee Kreikeya kept their rifles ready, just in case any bio-Cylon or Centurion had decided to wait in ambush. They cleared each cell methodically, looking for Dee's husband.

"Billy!" She yelled, as they came up on the last half dozen cells. No one had come running out, and she had been with the Marines when they had cleared the other levels. This was it.

"Dee!' She heard a faint scream of her name. "Dee!" It was louder.

She rushed forward while Anders and another Marine began checking the rest of the cells. She ran up to Billy and grabbed him and pulled him in. "Billy! I thought I lost you!" She pressed her forehead against his. "I love you so much!" she said. She helped him to his feet and steading him as he almost fell.

"Gods… they broke my legs, Dee," he said in a quiet pain. He grabbed onto her, hobbling forward as she put his arm around her shoulder. "I love you, Dee."

Anders and a Marine ran out of their cell, and Dee saw them carrying Admiral Cain. Her face was disfigured from the torture, her limbs and body looked broken. She was in bad shape.

But the five kept moving. They kept moving to their escape ships, ready to end this nightmare.

--------------------------------------

"Oh Gods… oh gods…" Baltar cried as he saw the destruction around him. Caprica Six was next to him, holding his hand tightly.

Many of the other Cylons had fled after Colonel Tigh had breached the gates. D'Anna and Caprica were the last two onboard _Colonial One_.

"Gaius, this doesn't have to be the end," D'Anna said. She began to leave before stopping and walking back towards him. She raised his head in her hands. "Gaius, come with us. You've done enough here to earn a place with us."

He stared blankly into her eyes. He didn't know what to say.

"Gaius, you need to decide. I'm going to set off the nuke in ten minutes," her voice was cold, calculating, and callous. There was no emotion behind her voice.

"What? No, you can't," Caprica protested. "If they escape we'll find them again. We can't slaughter them!" She walked forward and grabbed D'Anna by the arm. The Model Three reached back and punched her, throwing her across the cabin towards Gaius, who only watched wide eyed.

D'Anna stalked forward. She grabbed Caprica by the neck and began to squeeze. "Your line has always been weak, Six. Your line was a mistake. I told Him not to create you. The Twos were enough trouble. But now you… just die," she snarled as she began to squeeze the life out of Caprica.

D'anna's eyes grew wide after two loud cracks and bangs. She dropped Caprica, who was gasping for air. She turned around and lunged towards Baltar, pure adrenaline coarsening through her, she saw the smoking pistol in his hand. He shot her three more times in the chest. She fell, blood oozing out of her onto him and onto the carpet. He pushed her off and ran for Caprica.

"I love you," he said to her, cradling her in his arms.

------------------------------------

"Hey you! You!" Tom Zarek shouted to a young man running towards him. He grabbed his shoulder. "Hey! You were on _galactic_, right?"

The man pushed off from him, throwing his arms off. "Yeah, man. I didn't do anything though."

"Hey, listen, take this," Zarek handed him a pistol, "and go with her! Understand? Go with her and protect Laura Roslin. Protect her with your life!" he ordered.

The man nodded and they split up, Zarek running towards the _Astral Queen_ and Roslin towards her ship, _Colonial One._

The Raptors had been forced to launch their long range missiles at the Raiders from the planet, but they had jumped behind and above the incoming baseships and immediately fired their remaining rockets. They compensated for the speed of the baseship and opened fire with their chain guns, sending tens of thousands of high explosives rounds into the Cylon warship. Dozens of missiles began impacting the center axis of the baseships, but Raptor missiles were not strong enough to cause significant damage. The high explosive rounds did only superficial damage. But they bought _Galactica_ time. And time was what she needed most.

The armor on the mighty and proud battlestar _Galactica_ had begun to buckle. Helo had warned of explosive decompressions, and part of the starboard flight pods had already succumbed. The nuclear attack had worked as planned, but there were just too many baseships in orbit. The second nuclear strike had destroyed a third. But the Tin Can had been unable to destroy additional baseships, but was holding four at bay, barely.

Colonial warships were built tough, capable of taking an extreme pounding. But the upgraded computer targeting systems were begin to become overwhelmed by the sheer number of missiles and Raiders. The flak fields and anti-missile batteries couldn't keep up with the number of targets which kept increasing as more and more Cylon reinforcements began appearing.

Nine Vipers were destroyed. Three Raptors were hulks of scrap. The numbers were overwhelming.

It was the end for the might bucket.

Adama looked towards Helo, but he shook his head. FTL was still down. But the Colonials on the ground were all but gone. They'd saved them. But it was too late for them. Part of their plan had worked. They had rescued the people on the ground. But John and Erica and Lee were not able to rescue _Galactica_.

"Helo, it's been an honor. Everyone here," Adama raised his voice, "it has been an honor serving with you."

The ship shuttered as more missiles impacted throughout.

The DRADIS began beeping wildly.

"Sir!" Helo yelled. "Sir, I'm picking up _Pegasus_… and Cylon… Guardian baseships sir… they did it!"

"_Galactica Actual, this is Pegasus Actual, we're a little late, but we've brought reinforcements,_" he yelled to his father.

"_Galactica actual, this is Starbuck, what the frak is going on?_"

The Cylon fleet reacted quickly. _Pegasus_ was able to launch salvos of missiles at a lone baseship pounding _Galactica_'s ventral armor before it could redirect flak. Dozens of missiles slammed into the central axis between each triple pointed star, shattering the ship. The two baseships which had been chasing the DRADIS shadow of a fake _Pegasus_ jumped back mere seconds after the actual one appeared, fully aware of the ruse.

Five Guardian baseships took up flanking position and enveloped _Galactica_, protecting her from the missiles and kinetic rounds from the Cylons. Guardian Raiders began launching in waves numbering in the hundreds.

Half the Viper and Raptor pilots immediately flooded their wireless systems, demanding to know what was happening. Helo quickly got on the horn and informed them all Guardian craft were friendlies.

--------------------------------------------

"Bring our ventral batteries to bear on baseship zero-two and dorsal batteries onto baseship zero-one ," Captain Shaw ordered. She reached out and quickly braced herself as half a dozen missiles slammed into the dorsal armor of _Pegasus_. "Keep us on horizontal strafing, helm," she reacted calmly.

The advanced _Mercury_ class battlestar plunged forward between the fire of two deadly enemy ships of war. She rolled and fired her guns and missile batteries, showing her undamaged armor before rolling and exposing her reloaded missile batteries. Forward batteries launched guided high explosive proximity missiles into squadrons of Raiders, annihilating dozens of enemy fighters.  
Major Adama kept his eye on the DRADIS and the overall fleet strategy as Captain Shaw handled the tactics. He was directing the battle after Commander Adama had recalled his Vipers. Ten Vipers were still a minute away, coming up from the planet.

Captain Shaw ordered the ship to roll and dive and then head 'under' baseship zero-one. As it came 'under' baseship zero-one, pinned down by Gaurdian baseship fire could not keep a line of fire with _Pegasus_, or risk hitting baseship zero-two. This gave _Pegasus_ the opportunity to roll as she came under baseship zero-one, bringing dorsal batteries to bear then ventral then dorsal as soon as they were reloaded. After five rolls and one pass, the Cylon baseship exploded, its starry points blasting into space from the explosions.

"I can't believe we're pulling this off," Lee said to no one in particular.

"This is beyond fraking belief," she responded to his comment. Major Adama had known that John and Erica had been sent to find the Guardians and had told Captain Shaw, as his acting XO she needed to know, but she didn't believe it. She had thought it was just a trick for those two to either defect to the Cylons or just save their skin.

John sat there quietly in a recessed computer console, a data cord connected into his data port. He was helping to direct fire and identify targets, adding his powerful neural net processors to the _Pegasus_'s target and firing computers. He was also aiding in eliminating and blocking Cylon hacking attempts.

Erica had remained behind on one of the Guardian ships.

"Yes!" Major Adama shouted as another baseship exploded under the might of his ship and the Guardians. They're taken out two baseships since arriving. But that still left four, and _Galactica_ was out of the fight.

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Laura Roslin was the second to enter her old office on board _Colonial One_, right in front of Dee who was helping Billy to a chair, and the rest of her old presidential staff. Felix Gaeta had been on the first level, sitting in a forward cabin and starring blankly at the walls.

Roslin had jumped in as two resistance fighters were about to beat him.

The two armed men in front of her had been on her presidential guard service, and they cleared the office and moved to the rear, where her cabin and Quorum chambers were.

"Ma'am, I think that's your desk," Dee said, nodding towards the bloodied desk. They saw a dead Three lying on the ground.

"Ma'am," one of the presidential guards yelled. She asked what he had found. The two walked back into the cabin with Gaius Baltar and a Six, holding the president and Cylon at gunpoint.

-----------------------------------------

_Pegasus_ rolled and began a second strafing run on another badly damaged baseship, designated zero-four. By now all three fleets had taken a heavy pounding. Cylon reinforcements had jumped in on the edge of the nebula, seven more baseships, and were quickly approaching. Over a thousand Raiders. The Guardian ships, older than the new Cylon baseship and not as strong, but still in the fight, had suffered heavy damage like _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_. For all intents and purposes, _Galactica_ was out of the fight. She couldn't maneuver and the Cylon baseships had moved out of her direct line of fire. Too many Raiders were swarming her for missiles to penetrate Raider interception forces.

The Colonial-Guardian fleet had a capital ship advantage, but the Cylons had reinforcement incoming, more than enough to destroy the combined fleet.

"Sir, _Galactica_ reports FTL engines back on lines. She's jumping," Captain Shaw said, straightening herself and bringing herself to her full height. "Should I order a jump?"

A powerful shock shook the ship with enough force to break the ballistic plastic on the C-I-C doors. Sparks from damaged consoles and overloading systems flew everywhere.

DRADIS showed four Guardian baseships pounding away at two Cylon baseships while the fifth and _Pegasus_ each engaged two on its own. Massive explosions ripped through a ventral star of the Guardian ship and it jumped away, too damaged to continue the fight.

That was the agreement. The Guardians would come, but not risk their ships to destruction. They began recalling Raiders and gunships. Two more Guardian ships jumped, and then the fourth, and then the fifth.

Apollo nodded. They'd taken enough damage, lost enough men today.

Captain Shaw sent the recall order, as the ship shook from violent decompression, to the remaining Vipers and Raptors, combat landings authorized. The site of the combat landing would have been awkward, strange, and perplexing to the casual observer. Nearly fifty of the Guardian Raiders and gunships made their own emergency landings in the _Pegasus_ flight pods.

Large flashes of blue-white light marked the end of this saga and the beginning of the Second Exodus.


End file.
